


Acheron

by Eridans



Series: rivers [2]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF!Nico, WWII, angry as hell!nico di angelo, culture shocked!nico di angelo, italian!nico di angelo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2018-09-09 10:27:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 42,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8887420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eridans/pseuds/Eridans
Summary: Nico was resilient.He was ten and ninety. His birth certificate most likely read ‘presumed dead’. There was no one left in the world from his time who would remember him. He didn’t know anything that happened during World War II, only that they lost. Mamma was dead. So was Nonno and Nonna.Even Bianca.The river Lethe may have tried to take his memories of a past that Nico had no intention of losing, but nothing could ever take away the devastation he felt as his world crashed around him in this day and age.(Nico had stubbornness in spades, and children of Hades were well renowned for their bitterness.) -----------SEQUEL TO LETHE





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to Lethe.
> 
> I don't own anything.

Sequel to Lethe.

 

* * *

 

 

 

acheron

 

_what if_

 

**nico di angelo**

 

.

 

* * *

 

.

 

Somewhere along the coast of Washington, Nico poured two bottles of coke and a bag of greasy fries into a newly opened grave. “It’s not for me anyways.” He told himself, as he wrinkled his nose at the smell.

 

Minos watched him with careful eyes, leaning against one of the unkept tombstones. Nico wasn’t quite sure how a ghost was able to _lean_ on something, of all things, but wasn’t too inclined to question it. Questions meant yells, yells meant ‘lessons’, and lessons meant Nico would be trapped in a room slowly filling up with sand until he was able to find his way out (again).

 

Nico chanted the Greek under his breath, quietly asking for the specific soul to rise (in this instance, Achilles, since Minos has a _bone to pick with him_ \- which was Minos’s words, exactly, what an awful pun), and felt a little bit of warmth drain out of him as the disgruntled ghost appeared from the bones.

 

“What?” He bit out. “What insolent little- oh. Minos. You’re here.” Achilles sounded particularly unimpressed. “What do you want.”

Nico looked at the ghost, still impressive despite his death thousands of years previous. Achilles was tall and broad and practically _glowed,_ a true Greek warrior.

 

“Hello Achilles, how is guarding the Underworld working out for you?” Minos’s voice was kept light and conversational, and Nico stepped back a bit from the open grave where Achilles was hovering, and away from the bickering spirits. “Still haven’t seen Patroclus?”

 

Achilles’s jaw tightened. “I don’t believe that’s any of your business, Minos, but while we’re on the subject, how’s your wife doing? And the _bull_ she was cheating on you with, is he doing fine as well?”

 

A sharp and dangerous look appeared on Minos’s face for a few seconds, before the fire settled in his eyes. “Keep in mind, Achilles, I can send your soul to the Fields of Punishment if I so desire, so I would like you to watch your tongue around me.”

 

Achilles crossed his arms. “Not like guarding isn’t the punishment.”

 

“Hmm.” Minos’s eyes flickered over to where Nico was standing quietly, his eyes bouncing back and forth between the two legends. “I have a request of you, Achilles.”

“I decline.”

 

“I’m afraid it’s not a request you can decline, more like a mandatory part of your service. I need you to train this boy in the best of swordfighting.”

 

Achilles sputtered, at both Nico and Minos. “I don’t have to do anything for you, much less teach a random kid how to fight! He looks so malnourished that he couldn’t even pick up a sword.”

 

 _Harsh._ Nico thought, but Achilles’s observation wasn’t wrong. Nico couldn’t remember when was the last time he had more than one meal in a day.

 

“He is the only living heir to Lord Hades, I would treat him with more respect.”

 

“‘Only living heir’- what a load of shit, Minos. Not like that even matters with immortal gods. Beside, Hades children have never lived past their twentieth birthday.” Achilles’s voice was cold, and his image flickered. “What’s the point in teaching him? I can’t remember one child of Hades who didn’t end up going insane either.”

 

“Technically I’m eighty.” Nico muttered under his breath (the insane part was starting to seem a little bit too close for comfort), and whether for good or for bad Achilles didn’t take notice of him.

 

“I won’t train him.”

 

“Then I will move you into Punishment, taking effect immediately.”

 

There wasn’t a hint of fear in Achilles’ face as he stared down Minos. “Go ahead.”

 

Minos smiled. “I’ll talk to you in a couple weeks, and see what your answer is then.”

 

Nico felt the connection between his powers and the grave break forcibly. Achilles disappeared, leaving nothing but an empty, opened grave and a few soggy fries behind.   

 

“Trust me, my Lord, Achilles will be your teacher.”

 

Nico called three skeletons to push back the soil, and glanced at Minos. “He seemed quite certain he wouldn’t teach me.”

 

“You have yet to visit the Underworld, my Lord. It- especially the Fields of Punishment- is one of the worst places you could ever be besides Tartarus.”

 

Nico adjusted the jacket he had stolen off of a fresh grave two weeks back. “Will I ever visit?” They had been wandering across America for weeks on end it felt like, and Nico swore if he had to go to south New Mexico for the third time he’d-

 

“Of course, sir, of course.”

 

* * *

 

 

 _Of course,_ the first time Nico visits the Underworld, Charon nearly stabs him.

 

To be fair to Charon, he wasn’t used to living people, much less ones who ask politely to be taken to the Underworld (after being dropped off in front of a record store by a gleeful spirit, and told to _have_ _fun_ with no other instructions given, yeah, that was a _fantastic plan, Minos_ ) _._ Charon was so startled Nico was lucky he managed to block the sword that had been thrown at his face with an instinctual, panicked kick, and knocked it into the water of the river beside them.

 

Charon looked extremely disgruntled. “That was my favorite sword!”

 

“I’m really sorry, it’s a habit.” Nico apologized, although not too sure why. A sword flew at his face. Wasn’t that an acceptable reason to hit the sword out of the way?

 

“Of knocking swords out of the air?” Charon asked, settling back down in the boat with a light ‘hmph!’. Now that his only weapon was gone, and the boat had set off with a wobble as soon as he sat, there wasn’t much he could do besides throwing Nico into the Acheron underneath them. Nico took a quick glance at the faces of the doomed streaming beneath them, and was glad Charon hadn't chosen that option.

 

Nico couldn't help but shrug at the question. "Swords in the air, out of the air, I've seen it all. My tutor is... unconventional."

 

“You’re a bit young for a tutor, “ Charon commented, as the rickety boat made it’s way towards the opposite shore, where thousands of spirits waited in lines. “Back in the good old Greek days, you started at around twelve or so. You’re only eight or nine, right?”

 

“I’m _ten_.” Nico said indignantly.

 

Charon shrugged. “My apologies. On another note, to address the elephant in the room; why are you trying to seek passage into the Underworld in the first place?”

 

He could either lie, or take the easy/short explanation. Nico said, “I was hoping to see my father or to talk to the souls of my mother and sister, since anytime I’ve tried to call them it hasn’t worked.”

 

Charon took a look at Nico carefully (he fixated on the eyes, as  _everyone_ did) and swore. “You’re the Di Angelo.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“I’m afraid your father has no desire in ever meeting you.” Charon informed him straight away. "He didn't exactly ban you, but there was certainly no desire on his part to see you before your time came."

  
  
Nico felt anger seep into him. _Every single time something happens, it’s because of Babbo. Nothing will ever go right and I am so sick of this, and I can’t talk to Mamma or Bianca, and I swear to the Lord God and Jesus himself, who are the only ones looking out for me at this point, I will not leave until I have talked to both of them and have made Babbo acknowledge me._ “I’m afraid he will have to deal with me regardless.” Nico replied stiffly, anger apparent, and Charon turned his head as they glided into the pier, and shrugging, allowing Nico off the boat.

 

Despite the fact that Charon was able to recognize Nico as living, none of the more mundane spirits were able to. They all looked bored standing in the line- some old and looked as if they passed peacefully, others with bullet wounds or missing half their body. Nico was thankful he wasn’t too squeamish, but he quickly averted his eyes upward as he decided where to go. Most of the lines seemed to be heading into Asphodel, which was large but gloomy, with figures roaming off into nowhere between trees that were few and far between. Others had smaller lines, leading into Elysium, Punishment, or any of the other parts of the Underworld. Nico wondered where his sister or mother were.

 

At the very end of the lines, guarding a large gate, was Cerberus, _the Cerberus,_ who was sniffing the air very carefully. It’s three heads were drooling, growling at him as soon as all six eyes landed on his figure, as its towering figure easily crawled towards him, but Nico didn’t feel too threatened from the dog.  _Reminds me of Peonia, Nonno’s favorite hunter,_ he thought fondly. 

 

Cerberus looked ready to pounce, each of its heads snarling at Nico, who didn’t back away. Honestly- after making his way all the way down to the Underworld, half dead on his feet, badly malnourished and barely any sanity left, did Hades really think he was going to draw the line at the _fucking dog?_ “You’re a cute little puppy.” Nico cooed, some part of him telling himself _you’re a suicidal ten year old, that’s what you are,_ but all of the ears on the monster pricked up, and one of the heads came closer to him, less snarling, more curious. “What a large puppy you are, aren’t you? You’re such a sweetheart, and a good dog. You’re such a _good_ dog. I bet no one tells you that because you're so large, but you're such a handsome dog.”

 

One of Nico’s hands went up and scratched lightly the chin of  the right head of Cerberus, and its large tail began thumping against the floor. The other two heads, now completely enthralled by Nico and his flattering words, also pushed their heads closer to Nico’s hand and he scratched all three of their heads, switching between them.

 

“Okay, okay,” Nico smiled widely at Cerberus, as the heads shoved each other out of the way. “That’s enough. I’ll be back soon though, okay? Maybe I’ll bring a treat or a toy. Be a good dog, okay? I'll be back, I promise, I just have to go see Babbo.” Nico gave each head one last pat, and headed towards the gate that Cerberus had been guarding, and smiled when he noticed the dog trailing behind him eagerly. “Cerberus, you can’t follow me in. I want you to come in, but you're probably out here for a reason.” Nico would swear that all of its heads drooped and pouted. It took a little bit more convincing, and a couple more promises, but eventually Nico was able to make his way into the Underworld’s kingdom.

 

It was amazing how much the dog liked him after spending only a few minutes in it's presence- maybe many people didn’t try to pet Cerberus (the three heads were a bit disconcerting) and Nico guessed that most people didn't do much besides scream and run away from the giant dog, but it (he?) was a very friendly and social dog. Nico thought that someday, if he ever came back to the Underworld, he’d bring a nice ball for Cerberus. A squishy red one, like he's hear advertised on American radio stations. 

 

The joy from Cerberus couldn't last. Nico’s mood almost immediately soured as soon as he made it past the gate and on the pathway leading up to castle. Minos hadn’t come with him since he claimed he had to go run an errand, but Nico wasn’t sure now whether that was because he actually had an errand to do, or because he wanted Nico to confront some angry looking ghost that stared directly at Nico with one of the most hateful expressions he had ever gotten, and that includes the time when he got caught exiting a mosque with Bisnonno and one of Mussolini's awful fascist Black Shirts spit in their faces.

 

The closer Nico got to the man, the angrier he appeared. “For all of Lord Hades’ sake, you have no more than three seconds to explain to me, Minos’s protégé, why in the everlasting eternal Hell that I reside in, why Achilles is in the  _Fields of Punishment_.”

 

Nico’s mouth dropped open. Of all confrontations, this wasn’t quite the one he had been expecting. Maybe a confrontation with his father, yeah, sure, possibly one with Mamma or Bianca, or even in the farthest corners of his mind he imagined the possibility of seeing his extended family again- but most certainly  _not_ one concerning the long dead, super arrogant, ridiculously well-muscled spirit that pissed Minos off two weeks ago.

 

“One!”

 

Nico tried to formulate an answer that properly embodied both his sympathy and bewilderment, but the angry ghost cut him off before he could respond.

 

“Two! And three!”

 

The ghost flew at him, arm out, and nailed him in the gut, knocking Nico off his feet in a blur of motion. The ghost stopped after that, watching in amazement as Nico hit the ground, and then looked back to his own arm. “Heavenly Zeus, how is that even possible?”

 

“I’ll tell you what happened to Achilles if you promise you won’t hit me again.” Nico answered, his head spinning and his back aching from where it hit the rocky ground.  _How can an technically incorporeal spirit throw as mean a punch as Bianca? I'm pretty sure that's not how physics works!_  “Please, to God, don’t hit me again.”

 

The ghost grudgingly agreed, and allowed Nico to pull himself up off the ground and dust himself off. “Firstly, you tell me about Achilles, and then you’ll tell me why I am capable of touching you.”

 

“Touching me?”

 

The ghost had to be in such an awful mood to bite out so harshly, “I can’t pass through you, child, as a I am ghost and with you being alive it shouldn’t be possible.”

 

Nico thought it a reasonable question, one that he wanted answers to desperately in order to avoid anymore punches from unhappy ghosts. “Maybe it’s-”

 

 _“Achilles.”_ The ghost reminded testily, twisting his fingers unconsciously.

 

“Right.” Nico said. “Well, Minos wanted him to teach me sword-fighting, and Achilles refused, so Minos sent him to the Fields of Punishment so that when he finally comes out he’ll teach me.”

 

The ghost looked ready to wring Nico’s neck. “Achilles would _never-_ oh that evil piece of-”

 

“I didn’t ask for it to happen, I had no idea that Minos wanted him to be my teacher.” Nico quickly interjected.

 

“And yet because of you he’s in Punishment.”

 

Nico flinched, the words sounding too similar to ones he had been thinking recently about Bianca’s death. “I’m sorry.”

 

The ghost still seemed mad, but slightly more apologetic, as if he realized that Nico wasn’t able to control any of what happened.  “Hopefully then, if for Achilles’s sake and not for yours, he’ll be out of that Hell soon.”

 

“I do hope so.” Nico agreed.

 

“I just wish I could talk to him.” The ghost mumbled.

 

“You haven’t talked to him?”

 

“Not in the two thousand years I’ve been stuck down here. The Gods have kept us separated, more out of anger than anything, and haven’t let it go-”

 

It dawned on Nico who he was talking to. “You’re Patroclus.”

 

Patroclus nodded. “For all my bravery I was put into Elysium. For all of Achilles’s nobleness, he was assigned to glorified guard duty and we haven’t been able to talk to each other, not even a passing word because of it.”

 

“But you’re out of Elysium now, couldn’t you go speak to him?” Nico wondered, as Patroclus’s steel practically melted out of him, until he was just a defeated ghost with rings under his eyes.

 

“I told you, it’s banned. It’s impossible without direct meddling from the Gods. Should we step too near each other, we will be pulled apart. It's quite unpleasant.” Patroclus looked towards where the Field of Punishments were, where screams echoing chillingly in the air around the two of them. Nico was surprised that the Underworld, for all of it’s crowds, seemed so distant and far away from the different parts. There quite literally wasn’t a single soul on the path with Nico and Patroclus, as far as he could see.

 

“I’m sorry.” Nico repeated again, and Patroclus nearly shrugged the apology away.

 

“Just get him out of there as soon as possible.” And then Patroclus walked past Nico, his shoulder brushing against Nico’s, and left, too pensive with the answer he received about Achilles to ask about Nico’s solidness.

 

Nico took one last look towards the Fields of Punishments, before continuing his trek up to the castle.

 

It was large and imposing, and rather dark despite the large amounts of flowers decorating the landscape and trailing up the walls. Nico saw rose bushes surrounding the castle on all sides, some white, some black, but the majority of them red. _I bet there’s more thorns than roses._

 

Nico felt his resolve crumble a bit, when he came closer to the walls of the thin castle. He was by the roses now, and the door to the palace was a good fifteen meters high and had two skeletal guards in front of the door, their spears crossed in front of it unmovingly to block entry. Nico almost didn’t want to get near them (the last thing he needed was to get chased by skeletons _again)_ but mentally berated himself.

 

_You’ve gone all this way, spent hours planning what you were going to say, mentally prepared facing father for the first time, or second time, or anytime because you can’t remember because of him, and you’re going to yell at him for that-_

 

_But maybe you shouldn’t, because then he will throw you into Lethe again and what if that was just a one in a million chance at not losing your memories, everything you’ve ever heard and seen about the river Lethe was true and that you’ll finally lose your memories now-_

 

 _Focus!_ Nico told himself. “You can do this.” He mumbled, keeping his gaze on the skeletons. “You are Niccoló di Angelo, you’ve put up with enough of this-” he wasn’t going to curse, because a family like the di Angelos did not use words like those of the builders and sailors- “and you’re going to get what you want, even if it means you have to break a couple bones.”

 

Nico ignored his unintentional pun, and marched resolutely towards the skeletons.

 

“Business?” asked a disembodied voice, and Nico had no idea which skeleton to look at. _Madre di Dio onnipotente-_

 

“I would like to see Lord Hades.”

 

“He’s busy.” came a disinterested voice.

 

“Could I meet with him?”

 

The skeletons looked at one another. “He’s booked until the next millennia. Would you like to schedule an appointment?”

 

Nico wanted to bang his head against the wall. “The next millennia? Isn’t there anyway I could see him for five minutes? I just- I need to talk to him.”

 

“Child of Hades, I’m afraid Lord Hades doesn’t have time for you.” said one of the skeletons, and Nico fumed.

 

“May I meet with Persephone then?”

 

The skeletons seemed surprised. “She hates your kind.”

 

“I’d rather face her ire then sit and wait for a millenia.” Nico argued. “Can she meet with me today?”

 

The skeletons argued with each other, “I don’t actually know if she’s busy.”

 

“She never gets appointments.”

 

“But what if she kills him? Then Hades would be mad she killed his last heir-”

 

“No, he hates this one, haven’t you heard him?”

 

 _Credo in Deum Patrem omnipotentem, Creatorem caeli et terrae. Et in Iesum Christum, Filium eius unicum, Dominum nostrum,_ Nico began reciting the Apostle’s Creed in order to keep his temper. _I will kick my father when I meet him, propriety gone, I am sorry Nonno and Nonna, I can’t take it anymore-_

 

“She’s free right now.” One of the skeleton’s told him, the two of them finally hashing out a decision. “Just go through the main hall and turn left at the next big hallway, that’s the way into her private garden.”

 

“Thanks.” Nico said dully, and pretended not to hear as he entered, “Did we just send that kid to his death? I’d really hate to be held responsible for it-”

 

The inside of the castle was very dark, with lots of shadows, and dark marble and obsidian floors. It had a large atrium, with skylights that let in the only light, and when Nico let out a breath it he could see it due to the sudden drop in temperature.

 

There were many side hallways and doors, most of them closed or dark. Nico could hear voices down one of them but they were hushed and low, too far away for him to clearly distinguish any words. Nico thought that it wouldn’t be hard to get lost inside, with no clear markings or pictures on the walls, and that it was almost sad in a way, with dead vines sweeping some of the walls and his footsteps echoing loudly.

 

The next large hallway he came to, he followed the skeletons’ directions and turned left, heading down an equally indistinguishable path with very little light that let him see only twenty paces in front of him.

 

Nico wondered if this was just some elaborate scheme to get him lost within the confines of the castle and let him starve to death, but then common sense took over. _There are plenty other tortuous ways to kill me, boredom and hunger won’t be it. Besides, no one would care that much about me to kill me this way._

 

Eventually Nico made it to the end where there was a large set of double doors, similar to that of the entrance but smaller, which led to a well planned out garden with rows and rows of flowers and trees. Nico admired it for a couple seconds- it really _was_ a gorgeous place, and Nico knew that Nonna would have loved it greatly- before he stepped out onto the stones.

 

He didn’t see anyone out there, but there were many parts of the garden he couldn’t see, and neither could he see the end to it and he wasn’t very much inclined to search inside the castle then outside in the garden, where he was less prone to getting lost.

 

It took him about ten minutes, possibly more due to avoiding touching all the poisonous plants that entitled most of the garden, before he saw a woman crouching down next to the nightshade and mumbling something to it. Nico’s eyes widened when he saw it sprout a couple centimeters higher, and bloom multiple buds within a few seconds.

 

Persephone isn’t what he had expected. He had heard of Gods being meters tall, but she was the size of a normal woman, and appeared to be in her late twenties. She had black hair, and her skin was dark and flawless.

 

Nico made his way towards her slowly, and she noticed his presence soon enough.

 

“Who are you?” She demanded, and Nico noticed that her eyes were also a brilliant grey. She was a beautiful Goddess, and rightfully considered the more fearsome ruler of the Underworld.

 

“Niccoló-”

 

“Ah, yes, my husband’s living bastard.”

 

Nico had heard many times himself being referred to as a bastard- the scandal Maria had caused from having two children from the same man, and yet never marrying him had caused the Di Angelo name to plummet until the children had been introduced into the social circles, with well refined manners and exotic golden eyes catching the eyes of many of the elite.

 

“Rest be assured, my Lady, if I could not be Hades’s son I wouldn’t hesitate.”

 

Persephone sniffed. “What is your business, child, and say it quick. I won’t hesitate to turn you into corn plant.”

 

“I would like to see Hades-”

 

“And why come to me?”

 

“He’s not free until 3010.” Nico deadpanned.

 

“Not my problem.” She dismissed.

 

“Please, I really need to speak with him.” Nico waved his hands in the air. “I just need to speak with my mother and sister, please.”

 

Persephone gave him a bored look. “You aren’t capable of seeing your mother, he has her personally locked away somewhere, even _I_ don’t know where. Multiple times have I tried summoning her, but it’s impossible. You won’t be able to see her.”

 

“But she’s my mother!” Nico burst out, hands tightening into balls.

 

Persephone sneered. “And she is my husband’s favorite mistress who he would do anything for, and will keep her away from anyone, even her own children.”

  
  
“T-That’s not fair!”

  
  
“Go argue with your father then.” Persephone huffed, and waved a hand over the nightshade, making it grow a few more centimeters. “Just don’t eat any pomegranate seeds, I had to make that mistake.”

 

“What about Bianca?” Nico asked desperately.

 

“There is no reason why you shouldn’t be able to speak to her, unless she is avoiding you.”

 

_Even in death Bianca wouldn’t talk to him._

 

He felt his cheeks grow warm from the unfairness of it all. “Where can I find Hades then?”

 

“In the throne room.”

 

“Where is that?”

 

“Who do you think I am, a tour guide? Figure it out yourself, bastard.”

 

Nico turned on his heel and stomped back into the castle.

 

_I will destroy Hades, I will destroy Bianca, I will see Mamma, and Nonno, and Nonna, and I will most certainly get what I want._

 

Nico lost himself in the corridors, and began searching for the throne room.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies for the late chapter, life is a bitch. biggest bitch i have ever met, and let me tell you, i live with 30 other girls.
> 
> once again, thank you for all your support! i appreciate every last bit of it. tbh, no idea when the next chapter comes out, but since this one was a bitch to write the next one will be like having a second child- usually a bit easier then having the first one.

The twenty-first century America that Nico experienced was like an entirely new dimension of a far different world; a different history, a different perspective- the change of eighty years Nico would have never thought to be so prominent.

 

For all that happened due to the Great War (Nico heard from Minos that the Americans called it World War I, and that they called the one started in 1939 the second World War), the Kingdom of Italy remained quite honestly unchanged. They had their King and Queen, the same type of economy, same music, same people- well, besides the drop in population, there were only tiny details that changed between 1910 and 1930. Nico heard it from his mother, grandmother, grandfather- even Cristiano, who had been born only in the early twenties, said the world was the same except for machines. But even then, in most Italian households (and even in the Di Angelo household, which was far more wealthy then the rest) no one could  _afford_ the goods that were being created. 

 

So, nothing had really changed. 

 

Growing up, Nico learned Latin and French and English- just like what was required for his grandfather in the 1870s. He took fencing lessons, like all rich Italian boys did, rode horses and could shoot clay birds, played the violin, danced at every stupid ball, and prayed before every meal and before bed.

 

(Nico couldn’t even remember when was the last time he was calm enough and safe enough to pray without immediately passing out.)

 

Although no one would outright say it, the Italian country itself was stuck in a time capsule- unchanging, unaffected by the world around them. Despite the passing of time and generations, Nico could feel the influence of the Austrians hanging in the city’s air, and the fall of the Republic was apparent in every cracked stone and street. Maybe they were too afraid of change. Maybe no one wanted change. And everyone in Venice was _fine_ with that. Their culture was more important than of the country of Italy. The rest of the regions, like Lucca or Sicilia, spoke Italian, but the citizens of Veneto spoke  _Venetian._ They were their own country up until close to 70 years before Nico’s birth, and under Austrian rule until 10 years before Nonno was born. They had their food, their customs, their masks that were worn only at the most prominent of events. Venice was a sphere of influence that Nico never had any desire to leave, him being too caught up running through the thin walkways of the canals and visiting family friends to have ever even considered leaving. Nico was proud to be Venetian, not Italian, and knew of Venice's history before he did Rome's. 

 

And yet, America had none of that.

 

There were strange customs that could be found only in some places, but their languages were united. There were no noble families, with no honor duels to be fulfilled. There was no divide between the North and the South like there was in Italy, where if a man from Naples married a woman from Lombardy they would be disowned from their families. There was a public school system, a high literacy rate, an accepted government and leader, no talk of wars for territory or colonies at all (although, Nonno was always highly critical of their involvement in Cuba and the Philippines, but)-

Nico's life in America was completely alien to him, he might even call it refreshing if it didn't scare him half so much. If the worst thing Americans had to face was a tyrannical or low-approval rated President and terrible economy, then that was already so different from anything he had to face in Italy. Yet, he could imagine what might have happened during those eighty years he was in the casino to his home. And he could tell now that Venice was probably forced into the modern era, kicking and screaming. 

 _Would I still recognize it?_ Nico thought to himself, wringing his hands.  _Is it even still home?_

 

 

* * *

 

 

When Nico stopped in front of large imposing doors, every inch of his being telling him _this is it this is the throne room this is where your father is go fight find mamma and bianca,_ all of his fire and hatred sunk out of him and into the floor, leaving Nico feeling shaky and lethargic. Staring at the marble doorknob, one push away from his father, from his _answers_ , Nico didn’t feel like an unstoppable force of death and superhuman-type powers (as some might think), or even some kind of time traveler-esque person. He felt like the ten year old he was. When was the last time Nico felt like his age?

 

What were normal ten year olds supposed to be doing anyways? In this America, he supposed, they would be in the fifth grade. They would maybe be receiving their first handheld telephone, they would be participating in every extracurricular sport their school offered just to find which one they were good at, and subsequently brag about, and they would be refusing to kiss or hug their mothers goodbye every morning.

 

In Italy, in his time and home, he would be continuing with his private tutors. He would listen to the radio and play in the canals, learn to shoot more than a Beretta, maybe kiss a girl or support the war effort like the good Italian citizen he was supposed to be (even though no one in Venice, in his circles, supported Mussolini at all), and tell Mamma how much he loved her everyday. 

 

(He would also be pretending to be ignorant about the mass unemployment in the world, the harsh treatments Mussolini was imposing on even the upper class, the way Nonno would try not to mention his previous diplomatic affiliation with America...The normal American boy Nico had seen at Camp Halfblood didn’t even seem aware of any issues in the world.)

 

Nico did not feel like either of those ten year olds. He felt lost- alone, angry, exhausted, and more importantly  _homesick._ To have any degree of normality like the rest of the ten year olds, he would clutch onto it with all he had. Normal ten year olds did not fall into open graves out of exhaustion when trying to desperately summon their sister or mother from beyond the grave. They did not learn how to kill monsters (humans too) and call skeletons from a ghost who had nefarious purposes that Nico didn’t want to know about, or even had one inkling about what the plans might contain. They did not get thrown into a different time and country with no familiar faces, places, or things, into a life of homelessness and hunger. Normal ten year olds wouldn’t even be aware that they weren’t normal at all in any way, shape, or form, and hate themselves for it. Nico would _kill_ to not have the life he had.

 

Nico’s hand shook as he placed it on the door handle, but there was still no courage to open it. He couldn’t even hear anything behind the door, and with defeat Nico fell to the floor in front of it, wrapping his arms around his legs- too afraid to open it, too _stupid_ not to turn back.

 

 

 _Stupid, I should be able to do this. This is just confronting him I can do that I've met him before he's Babbo he's terrible he got Mamma killed and Bianca killed and me stuck in a different country and time but he's still Babbo he's still rational he can still let me see them he can still fix this._ Nico's thoughts were a blur in his head.  _He can still help and I've met him before he won't hurt me he can fix this why can't I open this stupid door why am I so afraid to see him?_

 

Nico sat in that hallway for a long time, before rubbing his cheeks and stared at the doorknob. “I’m ready.” He tried to convince himself. “For my family.”

 

He stood up and cracked open the door.  


 

* * *

 

 

The Di Angelos have been and always will be a traditional family, from the third century to the present, which Nico could see steeped in every inch of his family. The Di Angelo family motto was one that had been decided upon back in eleventh century, and had quite amazingly lasted ever since. Every Di Angelo since it's creation took pride in it, and each were given a small gift with the family motto engraved on it to wear every day with pride. 

 

_Pellaei angelorum, et non pereamus._

(the favored of the angels, we will not die.)

 

Nico had been given a simple cross necklace, the Latin phrase inscribed on it’s back. He couldn’t imagine a time when he didn’t wear it, it was always a barely noticeable weight on his chest that he ran his fingers over whenever Minos became particularly irritated and sent five skeletons Nico’s way to fight. 

 

(Some across Italy had said that the Di Angelos- or in fact, the entirety of Venetian ‘nobility’ as others liked to call them- were far too archaic in their traditions, but this was easily countered by Nonna and her quick wit when she heard. “Why honor our family at all if we do not uphold the traditions? Why would we stop our family’s practice when it has served us well? Why dishonor our ancestors, when it is because of them we are here at all?”)

 

And now, as Nico faced down his father for the first time in seventy years, he grabbed at his necklace and ran his hands over the words. _Pellaei angelorum, et non pereamus. Pellaei angelorum, et non pereamus. Pellaei angelorum, et non pereamus._ Favored by the angels, _We_ will not die.

 

“I have to admit, I was surprised that you made it past Cerberus.” Hades said dryly, his eyes identical to Nico and Bianca’s.  _Well of course they would be,_ the distant part of Nico's brain that never shut up said.  _It's called genetics, stupid._

 

Nico took a good look at his father, the first time not clouded by Mist, or delusion, or lies. Hades was as tall as he always imagined a God to be; roughly ten metres, carrying a scepter and wearing a crown of twisted silver and black metal. His face was grim and wrought with lines, but his eyes burned holes into Nico's form.

 

Nico coughed to clear his throat. What a terrible first question. He was hoping a bit more for  _My son! How wonderful it is to see you! I do apologize for my actions and have decided to bring your mother and sister back to life! Huzzah!_ But, no. Nico got  'I'm surprised you got through Cerberus', a wonderful sentiment to hear after having a mental breakdown outside the throne room. _Is there really good way of answering him?_ Nico said awkwardly, “Cerberus is a sweet dog.”   


“He is.”

 

 _Really though, of all topics to start on?_ Nico knew realistically, this was when most people would break down crying and screaming, possibly along the lines of _you abandoned mamma, killed her, got Bianca killed, won't let me see them, can't you just fix this you awful awful person,_ but Nico felt that would be, although quite therapeutic, counterintuitive. There was also a strange, small part of him that wanted to prolong the conversation for as long as possible because _th_ _is is my Babbo._ Nico thought.  _He's really terrible and has done really awful things, but I've also never met him before knowing who he really is._

 

Ironically enough, Hades was more adept at keeping their conversation going as Nico fell into silence. “Niccoló, it is not proper to arrive at someone’s house looking like you do.”  _Well that's quite rude again._

 

Nico looked down at himself. Scuffed shoes with a hole at the big toe on his left foot, too long pants that he rolled and were covered in mud, a baggy t-shirt that might have been… red? Maybe green, but either way was a lovely shade of brown and grey. And lastly, he had a jacket that he stole from one of the graves he used to call the spirits. Nico didn’t want to imagine what he looked like though- dirty hair, dirty all over, Lord he hadn’t had a bath in _weeks,_ now that Hades reminded him.

 

“I’m afraid I didn’t have much choice, what with raising the dead and traveling in the Labyrinth and all.”

 

Hades sat up taller in his throne, and leaned forward to look at Nico with burning gold eyes. “Minos is teaching you, isn’t he?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Hades said, “Interesting,” _(what in God's name is really interesting about that? No one else offered)_ before leaning back.

 

“What are you really here for, Niccoló? I’m sure it’s not just to have a chat with your father.”  


 

Nico couldn’t help the tinge of anger that colored his words, “I’m afraid you never gave me many options to have a chat with you in the first place, _Babbo._ After all, you left me in a casino for seventy years and didn't even tell me who you were." Nico took in a deep breath.  _I can't get distracted from what's really important._ "I- Where’s Mamma?”   


 

“She’s here.” Hades admitted after a few long, agonizing seconds.

 

Nico felt his heart leap into his chest. “Then I can see her!”

 

“You can’t call her or see her.” Hades quickly shut down.

 

Nico felt both furiousand exhausted, and let them settle on his shoulders. “What?”

 

“You aren’t allowed to see her.” Hades repeated.  


 

_“Why?”_

 

“There are _rules,_ Niccoló, that you don’t know, that say I can’t allow you to see your mother-”

 

Nico desperately asked, "What rules, Babbo! I can't- what about Bianca then?”

 

Hades adjusted his crown and tapped his scepter on the ground once- not calling anything in particular, Nico observed with only half a coherent thought, but to gather his words. “There is no reason why Bianca should not be answering you. Those rules to not pertain to her.”  


“But she hasn’t answered me, I can’t call her-”

 

“Then maybe you aren’t strong enough, Niccoló.”

 

Nico shook his vehemently. “That's not true."

 

“Niccoló, your sister was far stronger than you. She can deny you _any_ time.”

 

Nico knew, deep down, that wasn’t- _couldn’t be-_ true. If Bianca was stronger, why couldn’t she remember after Lethe? Why couldn’t she see that something was wrong in the boarding school? If Bianca was that powerful, then was that just a fluke- her never developing her powers like he did, turning to archery and the Huntresses instead? If she was stronger, she would not have had to trust Percy to keep her safe. If she was stronger, why would Minos go after him and not her? Why did Nico not- not feel anything from her like he could with Percy, Annabeth, and the others?

 

Nico took a deep, calming breath, unwilling to fight that fight just yet. “Can I just see her then, here?”  


 

“If she doesn’t want to see you in the living world, she will have no desire to see you here.”

 

All the anger he had held onto since May (since leaving Italy- and it must be Winter by now. Was it November? December?) threatened to bubble out of him just by hearing those stupid words, words that said _I could help you but I won't_ , and _Dio,_ Nico wanted to yell at his father, he wanted to hit him with everything he had and scream and yell and curse him with every inch of his being, but he clutched at his necklace instead, hearing Mamma’s voice soothingly whisper in his head and knowing it was better not to fight, and instead turned on his heels.

 

“I _will_ be back, and you _will_ let me see them.” Nico informed his father. There was cold now settling into his spine and running down his neck- sudden cold causing goosebumps to rise, and Nico wasn’t sure which one of them it came from.

 

Hades peered down at his son with the same type of disgusted look Nico received from his peers when he told them his parents never married. _Disappointment, wo_ _rthless, impure, waste of space._ “Your sister would not have walked away from this.”

 

“It is a good thing I am not Bianca then.” Nico responded with a frosty tone. “She could never win her battles.” 

 

“This is a battle you will not win-”

 

“I don’t care!” Nico hissed, his fists balling up but he refused to act on any of his violent wishes. He took another deep breath, and turned around, stalking towards the throne room door. “I will be back."

 

And Nico slammed the door behind him, which made him feel moderately better, but he was still extremely angry and bitter. A small part of him was yelling at himself, _w_ _hy didn’t you just fight with him?! Why did you give up?!_

 

 _I can’t win this fight just yet._ Nico yelled at himself. _There must be some loophole, maybe if I look in Apsodel or Elysium I could find them, but I can't go through Babbo._

 

Nico couldn’t argue with himself anymore, and headed back the way he came. If Hades was going to not tell him, argue with him, ruin him- if he did anything like he did back there, Nico would not give him one second of his own time.

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for all the support! as always, next chapter is coming out i-don't-know in the month of tbh-heck-if-anyone-knows in the year of the dragon. see you then.

"The Earth is the _third_ planet!”

 

“ _Fourth!”_

 

“Third!”

 

“Fourth!”

 

“Third! It’s the third one!” Bianca turned towards Maria with pleading eyes. “Come on Mamma, tell him, it’s the _third_ planet.”

 

Maria patted Nico’s head and laughed. “It is the third planet, darling.”

 

“See!” Bianca screeched, turning and pointing her finger at Nico.

 

“Well, I always was told that it was the _fourth.”_ Nico pouted, sullenly crossing his arms.

 

“Then your tutors were wrong.” Cristiano shook his head. "I can't tell you how glad I am that we’ve settled that argument, you two have just gone off about the planets ever since the train station-”

 

“It’s the ten year anniversary about the discovery of Pluto!” Bianca interrupted. “And we haven’t been arguing about it for that lo-”

 

 _“Yes_ you have _.”_ Cristiano exasperatedly responded, and Bianca let out a loud ‘hmpf’ of annoyance.

 

“Are we almost to the base?” Nico asked the driver, peering out the window of their car at the rocks and cliffs of Calabria. There were less cities in Calabria, or at least more spread out from what Nico could see, but they were picturistic nonetheless. Most of the simple homes dotting the seaside were different warm shades of white or yellow, while in comparison the tall buildings of the city of Venice were stunning due to the creativity of the competing architects of the centuries.

 

The driver nodded his head. “Yes sir, about another quarter mile or so.”

 

Nico settled back down in his seat, eyes still lingering on the wide expanse of sea- lighter and more vivid blue then the canals of Venice seemed to be even in summer. Nico wanted to come back one day, when they could spend more then two days and not almost all of it inside a military base camp.

 

“Mamma, what songs are you going to sing for the troops?” Bianca fiddled with her bracelet. “Are you going to sing _‘Sicuro a Casa'_?”

 

“I believe that’s what Signore Nalan has decided on, as well as the usual national anthem- and any requests, of course.”

 

“I think Niccoló should sing the national anthem with you, Signora. He’s really starting to develop those infamous Di Angelo vocals.” Cristiano told her slyly, looking at the ten year old.

 

Nico flushed brightly with a semi-displeased look settling over his face, and shook his head vehemently. “Not at all, Cristiano! I’ll stick with my violin if you’d please-”

 

"It’s true though, you have got a lovely voice- not as nice as mine but still, very nice.” Bianca informed her little brother.

 

Maria laughed at her daughter. “You two have very different voices- Nico’s is more suited for the traditional songs, and yours would be perfect for the opera."

 

“Like yours?”

 

“Like mine, if I hadn’t decided to pursue swing.” Maria agreed. She leaned towards the window and caught sight of the military base’s gate in the distance. “Everyone has their things, right? You don’t want to forget anything important again.” She gave a stern look towards Nico.

 

He rubbed his cheek and looked away from his mother. “It was one time and it was only my shoes-”

 

“Only your shoes!” Cristiano exclaimed. “My smallest Niccoló, sir, it seemed like half your closet-”

 

“Just my shoes and my jacket, Cristiano! Don’t over exaggerate!” Nico huffed.

 

Maria said, “It was a learning lesson, Nico, you won’t do it again-”

 

Nico shook his head. “I won’t Mamma, I won’t. It was only one time, and I was _eight._ ”

 

Bianca snorted at her little brother, ignoring Maria’s sharp remands of “That was not ladylike at all, Bianca”, and instead retorted, “They’re just trying to rile you up, Abercrombie.”

 

“I _know-”_

 

“Then why did you let it get to you?”

 

“Signora, Signore, _please.”_ Cristiano let out a deep sigh.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The first thing Nico knew, when he marched out of the castle like the fool he was, was that he had absolutely no idea where his mother or sister might be (reasonably, they might be _in_ the castle, but he wasn’t in a good enough mood to tackle that obstacle just yet) and that the Underworld was _huge._

 

It stretched for miles in each direction, no matter what gates or fences might be in place, beyond them he could see souls and skeletons as far as the eye could see. It might take him weeks to find Bianca and Mamma, not unless they made it to Isle of the Blest or Elysium- even then Nico wasn’t sure how he would reach them. He could swim, but he wasn’t too fond of taking another dip into the Underworld’s rivers. He could take a boat, which was probably his best bet, but what if he couldn’t go because he was alive? And unfortunately, he couldn’t just fly over the areas and do a quick scan for anyone that looked remotely like two short dark haired Italians. The numbers might be in the _millions_ if he could try that- and it would be the same if he just tried searching through Asphodel- but something in his gut told him _don’t even bother checking there._

 

Nico threw his hands up in the air, quite sure the skeleton guards were whispering behind him about _‘what a weird kid’_ (it seemed even skeletons had shifts) _._ Nico didn’t even know where to begin if he tried to tell them exactly what was going through his head. There was just- _gesù cristo,_ he didn’t know at all. Nico wondered if that was the reason he never bothered trying to really explain it to anyone besides Bianca- it was too complicated, too much backstory and death, and the fact that there was no point to really tell it if no one cared.

 

Not even Minos cared, but Nico didn’t expect him to. Minos was there to train him, guide him (no matter how misguided he ended up being), to make sure Nico didn’t die or turn over to the Titans or whatever army it was that he had heard through the halls of the Labyrinth. Honestly, Nico couldn’t give a care in the world what was currently brewing in the universe.

 

Nico had his own small list of priorities:

 

  1. Talk to Mamma and Bianca, retrieve their bones if necessary, bury them in the family graveyard.
  2. Go home.
  3. Pray.
  4. Figure out if he was really the heir to the family fortune and land, see if he could get it back.
  5. Get his birth certificate faked or fixed without anyone questioning it (...maybe this should go before #4).
  6. Take a _long_ nap.
  7. Take a bath while he’s at it. Even Nico knew he smelled.
  8. Ruin Hades’s eternal life (if possible).
  9. Contact Nonno and Nonna- since they hadn’t died in America he couldn’t get a hold of their souls, plus that they weren’t directly influenced by the Greek Gods- see how they were doing, what happened after their only other family disappeared off of the face of teh Earth.
  10. Time travel back to 1940 (again, if possible).



 

Nico thought some part of his grand scheme of things could be _plausibly_ done- that is, if everything went according to plan for once (which is never did).

 

He went over all of his goals one more time, mind hyperfocusing on the souls of his family, and stuck with original plan. Nico took a good look out over the lands he could see of the Underworld, and decided that going south was as good of a place to start as any.

 

The first thing Nico stumbled upon (in the loosest sense of the word) was the River Pyriphlegethon, only about half a kilometer from the Palace.

 

“I am so tired of these rivers.” The boy muttered under his breath, staring into the lava melt with rising smoke circling around the bank. “Everytime I come visit, there’s always a new river. None of them are even nice- the river that causes you to forget your entire life? It’s absolutely charming. River of desperate groaning souls that are actually in Hell? Lovely place. The river of fire and practically screams death and hate? I don’t understand why they don’t just turn this place into a nice little tourist attraction.”

 

Nico picked up one half of a discarded rusted sword and tossed it into the river. The metal hissed as it melted into nothing but liquid metal, but Nico was sure it had been destroyed even further then that when he lost sight of it disappearing down the current.

 

“I wonder how nice it’d be to have a normal father.” He wondered to himself outloud. “I wouldn’t even care if he was there in my life, I could live normally, die normally, I wouldn’t know how to fight with a real _sword-”_

 

“A sword is quite dignified though, don’t you think?” The God three feet behind him inquired, ignoring the way Nico jumped at his unnoticed arrival. “I mean, personally, I have yet to really use a sword in any way other then decoration but I believe there will be a prime opportunity to. Someday.”

“Uh-huh.” Nico kept his eyes trained on the man, fingers tracing the edge of his sword in case. “Who exactly are you?”

 

He let out a small sigh. “People know Zeus, Hera- any of the Twelve- I get that, they are our rulers, they make some good choices- but people also know Ganymede, Eros, Nyx, Pan- but they don’t bother learning about the Gods that will provide them with help? The good Gods, who won’t curse you? This is why we don’t bother helping anyone anymore! No recognition!”

 

“That might be because you don’t tell people your name… or announce yourself, really.” Nico told the God quietly, ignoring the way the Pyriphlegethon hissed in the background.

 

The God gave him a considering look, and nodded his head slowly. “You know, you’ve got a point there.”

 

Nico waited a few seconds for the God to introduce himself, but he just remained pensive. “I’m really sorry my, uh, Lord, but I still don’t know who you are.”

 

“I’m Caerus!” The God blinked out of his stupor and grinned at Nico.

 

Nico couldn’t help the confused look that came over his face.

 

Caerus waved his hands. “You know, Occasio? Kairos? Tempus?”

 

The boy lit up at the last name. “Tempus? As in the God of opportunities?”

 

Caerus beamed. “Finally! Some nice recognition! Not many Greeks know my Roman personification though; are you sure you’re not Roman?”

 

Nico frowned. “I’m quite sure I’m Greek, but there are Roman halfbloods? I hadn’t heard-”

 

The God waved his hands even more frantically. “Uh- forget I mentioned that-”

 

“I mean, I know Latin but I don’t-”

 

“I said forget it, kid!” Caerus interrupted. “Gees, this was supposed to be a quick stop- sorry to be so frank, but no one is really fond of your father and his Kingdom- but I hadn’t expected _this_ sort of reaction-”

 

Nico felt bemused, the words stuck in his mouth. “I don’t- I mean, I never meant for this to-”

 

“Whatever, whatever-”

 

“I’m sorry-”

 

“You know what?” Caerus took hold of Nico’s shoulders, his hair (...was it really all just one lock, like the stories had said? Or maybe Caerus bought himself a wig?) falling in waves behind him. “Kid, I’m just going to give you your gift and then leave. Like I was never here, like I never said a _word._ Sounds good?”

 

Nico shrugged, still sputtering slightly over the bewildering quality and quickness of it all. “I mean, I _guess_ -”

 

“Thank _God.”_ Nico didn’t point out the irony of that statement.

 

Caerus bent down and took multiple things out of the large dufflebag by his feet that Nico hadn’t paid much attention to before. Caerus mumbled under his breath as he tried to figure out which item was for who, before he dug around a little bit more into the bag and pulled out with an _‘ah ha!’_ -

 

It was a- padded foot guard? Why would he-?

 

“What’s this for?” Nico asked, as Caerus shoved back in his bag the rest of his gifts (Nico didn’t want to know who or what the toilet seat was going to be desperately needed for).

 

“I don’t know!” The God responded cheerfully. “I have honestly no clue!”

 

Nico stared at him, holding the foot guard in his hands as far away from his body as possible. “Then why-”

 

“I just knew you needed it! Kid, do you think I would know exactly why someone needed a wart remover? You just kind of guess about what makes sense in it’s context. Why would someone need a guard for their foot?”

  
  
“To protect it.” Nico filled in dumbly, and the God gave him a warm smile.

 

“Now you have it! Can’t say I hope I’ll see you again, mostly because you spend too much time around dead people who are _terrible_ conversationalists, and also because I don’t want you to bust me for telling you about the Romans-”

 

“I still have a couple questions about that though-” Nico protested.

 

  
“Nope! You’re not hearing _anything_ from me.” Caerus shook his fist at Nico. “See you around, kid.”

 

Then, Caerus disappeared right where he stood, leaving Nico alone with the foot guard and the lovely river behind him. His disappearing act reminded Nico of shadow traveling, but more convenient. One second he was there and one second he wasn’t, no shadows necessary, with maybe a bit less chance of ending up in China.

 

Nico turned the foot guard over in his hand, hoping that just looking at it would provide him with any ideas. Nico bit his lip as he tried to puzzle it out, before a stray piece of his conversation with Patroclus entered his head-

 

_“And yet because of you he’s in Punishment.”_

 

Who else would need something as ridiculous as a foot guard then _Achilles_ with his weak spot? This was quite literally the nicest thing that had ever happened to Nico- for once he didn’t have to figure something out with less information then French spy. And figuring out who and want it was needed for in less then thirty seconds was the simplest thing he had ever done involving the Gods.

 

Nico headed back towards the Palace with a quicker pace then when he had left it. A place to go, a person to see, answers to get- it all seemed to good to be true.

 

 

 

* * *

 

  

It was too good to be true. Nico hated himself for jinxing it.

 

“You can’t enter the Fields of Punishment.” The guard recited dully, peering down at Nico with all that a skeleton could. “I can’t understand why you _would_ go in the first place, but you can’t-”

 

“Why?”

 

“No one but those being punished can enter.”

 

“What kind of stupid rule-” Nico shook his head furiously. “What, did they not want souls coming in and hitting them with tomatoes and cabbage or something?”

 

The skeleton remained silent.

 

Nico’s mouth fell open. “No. You’re _kidding.”_

 

“I’m afraid, either way, you aren’t allowed entry.”

 

Nico looked down at the guard in his hands. “Say, is the fence electrified, or blocked from teleporting or anything?”

 

“No.” The guard responded immediately before having a double take, reaching towards Nico quickly, “Don’t you dare go-”

 

Nico waved at the guard before he shadow traveled directly into the heart of the Fields of Punishment. It was nice feeling, a bit obvious and someone would no doubt try and find him immediately, but it had been too long since Nico had the upper hand on someone.

 

The first thing Nico had to do was find Achilles, but the Fields of Punishment was a massive area, and deadly quiet to an unsettling level. Nico couldn’t see anything but grassy hills and jagged trenches in the Earth- no soul around. He took in a deep breath, and called the shadows to himself.

 

 _Find Achilles._ Nico told the shadows surrounding him, which let out a weird sort of... mind chatter? But Nico got the feeling of ‘thumbs up’ from the shadows, and he allowed them to take him to Achilles.

 

Unfortunately, that meant he was unceremoniously dropped directly _on top_ of Achilles, and since Nico couldn’t go through spirits, it was a generally unpleasant experience for the both of them.

 

 _“I swear to every fucking God,_ if I don’t-” Achilles hissed as he was pressed to the ground, Nico flopped on top of him. Within a split second though, Achilles had flipped over, grabbed Nico, and rolled sharply to the left, missing a poisoned arrow by three feet.

 

Nico let out a groan as the foot guard was dug into his gut. “Could you-”

 

“I was a good ten seconds ahead of the arrows before this!” Achilles said to Nico, his voice sounding much like Nico's doom and despair. “Do you want to know how long that took me to get that far ahead of them?”

 

“Not really.” Nico answered weakly.

 

“Three weeks!” Achilles yelled. _“Three weeks,_ straight!”

 

“I’m really sorry, but I have something that might help-” Nico tried, before Achilles jumped a good six feet into the air to miss the arrows coming towards his left heel.

 

“Is it an apology from Minos and a one-way ticket out of here?”

 

Nico deflated, still trapped in Achilles’s tight grip. “Well, uh, not quite-”

 

Achilles dropped him on the ground, the foot guard falling with him. Achilles caught sight of it as soon as it fell to the ground.

  
“Is that-” Achilles started, before he had to utter another curse and pull an impressive duck and roll to avoid an especially sharp arrow.

 

“Yes! You can take it!” Nico told him, picking up the guard clumsily and throwing it towards the Greek hero.

 

“I need you to deflect some of the arrows then when I put this on.” Achilles told him when he caught it, stepping to his right as three arrows came towards his back. “I can’t do both at the same time, especially because I have to sit down.”

 

Nico froze. “I-” He thought back to all the training Minos put him through, the deflecting practice of less pointy missiles that he couldn’t even touch. “I don’t think I'm really proficient enough to-”

 

“Yeah? Well I’m not going to feel the pain of death again, thank you very much.”

 

Nico flinched, and drew his sword. Achilles dropped the ground and wrestled open the strap on the guard.

 

The first arrow came from Nico’s left, and he managed to cut it in half- not down the middle, because he wasn’t that talented, but choppily and a bit more towards the back of the arrow then the front, but it landed in the grass. Nico almost wanted to cheer, but Achilles’s bark of “Another one coming, kid-” made him turn on his heels and sloppily knock the arrow down the same way as the first one.

 

About three more arrows were hit this way, each in quick succession, before Nico asked with his back turned towards Achilles, “Are you done yet?”

 

“It’s a little _small-”_

 

“It can’t be!” Nico retorted sharply. “It was given to me by a God!”

 

“Well, they underestimated my shoe size!”

 

“Just shove it on!” Nico turned around to argue with Achilles, and barely managed to raise his sword quick enough to cut the arrow that had come right for his eye.

 

Unfortunately, Achilles noticed this. “You really don’t know how to fight, do you?”

 

“It wasn’t exactly in my scholastic curriculum, I'll have you know, if that’s what you’re implying. The most swordfighting I’ve ever done was fencing-” Nico replied snippily as he slammed four arrows to the ground and broke them in half with his foot.

 

“What’s that?” Achilles had taken to slamming the boot onto his foot, and Nico could see that it was _almost_ on.

 

“What?” Nico asked distractedly.

 

“What’s fencing?” Achilles rolled his eyes.

 

“It’s thin blades on a padded mat wearing padded suits, and you fight for honor only.”

 

“Sounds boring- Got it!” Achilles stood up with the boot on his foot, and let the next arrow hit his heel directly. It bounced right off, the poison not even touching the skin.

 

Nico let out a sigh as the arrows began just pounding Achilles’s foot instead of going for him, but the hero wasn’t even fazed by them coming straight at his weakpoint.

 

“I still don’t like you.” Achilles told Nico, his eyes glaring holes into Nico’s small form. “But I do appreciate your help.”

 

“It was for Patroclus mostly.”

 

Achilles perked up at the mention of the man. “How is he? We’re banned from-”

 

“I know, I heard. I decided to help _just_ for him. You’re not the most pathetic person, honestly.” Nico sniffed.

 

“Neither are you, kid but at least you do have some semblance of a heart. I don’t see many of those in your types.”

 

“You were a halfblood too.” Nico pointed out, but Achilles just shook his head.

 

“I meant Hades children.”

 

“Are we really that terrible?”

 

Achilles shrugged, still not paying any attention to the increasingly frustrated arrows. “Just the dozen or so I’ve met.”

 

“That sounds similar to what Patroclus said.”

 

“Great minds think alike.” Achilles smiled- actually _smiled._ Nico knew that the relationship of Patroclus and Achilles was legendarily strong, but he didn’t think it would extend to making the famous Greek hero _smile_ or _happy._

 

Nico took a step backwards, the sight too foreign. A couple stray arrows lay on the ground behind him, and he slipped and fell backwards on his hands. The grass was sharp and dead, Nico could feel a few thin slices develop on his already increasingly blemished hands. Achilles eyed Nico as he stood up and brushed off his hands on his dirt covered pants.

 

“Hey, what color were those pants originally?” Achilles asked, scrunching up his nose.

 

Nico stared down at his pants for a few seconds. “You know, I’m not sure. I hope brown.”

 

“You hope-”

 

“You’ve got to realize that I do recognize that this is a monumental step down from my previous life. If I could get out of these clothes, take a bath, eat some food that isn’t expired or tasteless, I would.”

 

Achilles didn’t respond for a few seconds, leaving Nico fidgeting with the broken zipper on his jacket before Achilles finally stated, “If you would pass on a message for Patroclus for me, when I get out of the Fields of Punishment, I’ll train you.”

 

Nico startled. “You don’t have to-”

 

“That was the whole point of sending you to the Underworld, wasn’t it? You just got some help to make you appease me enough for me to agree.”

 

Nico frowned, thinking back on the past couple hours. Everything neatly aligned that way, into something that only Minos could have crafted, but-

 

“I’m sorry to say, but I didn’t come here for you intentionally.”

 

“You came to talk to your father?”

 

“I came to seek answers about my mother and sister.” Nico said blandly. “You were just another adventure.”

 

“I’m assuming you didn’t get anything out of Hades.”

 

Nico slouched, ignoring the way Nonna’s voice reprimanded him for his posture in his memories. “No, I didn’t.”

 

Achilles nodded his head. “Well, there’s nothing you can do about that. But you do have a message to pass on to Patroclus you promised me.”

 

So Nico listened to Achilles’s message to Patroclus intently.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so it's been, 2 months? idk thats kind of good for me. so like, lot of shit has gone down but you dont care about that so like, go read. thanks for all the kudos/comments!

On May 13th, 1940, the wife of the caretaker of the house, Marcella, picked up a letter from the American Embassy in the mailbox. She turned it over multiple times in her hands as she briskly entered the house. “I do _hope_ Maria didn’t end up in some kind of international incident _again,”_ she muttered to herself. Marcella didn’t want to consider the alternative, that somehow they got deported for being Italian, that someone had recognized Maria (even though she didn’t have a large following outside of Italy) and took her hostage- that she was dead.

 

Marcella dearly hoped it wasn’t the last one, because if Maria was dead then so was Bianca and Nico, and if they were dead then how would- Marcella stopped herself there. She shook her head, and took the steps up to the next floor two at a time.

 

Nonno, or Biagio Di Angelo, was still sitting at his desk reading the daily paper when she entered.

 

“Marcella! Have you heard this _nonsense_ Mussolini says? Our poor King, can’t do anything-”

“I know it is truly a crisis, Signore, but I have this letter from the American Embassy. I fear something terrible happened to the children.”

Biagio took the letter from her hands quickly, and easily sliced open the seal. Marcella waited anxiously as his eyes skimmed over the letter with increasing urgency. Biagio leaned back in his chair and put his hands over his eyes once he had finished, the atmosphere of the room tense as he didn’t say a word. He still grasped the letter tightly in his hands.

 

“Signore?” Marcella asked, holding onto the sleeve of her dress.

 

Biagio shook his head slowly, barely raising his head. “Sh- They’re dead.”

 

Marcella barely registered the words. “I-I-I-” She cleared her throat. “Pardon?”

 

“Maria is dead, and presumably so are my grandchildren- their- their hotel _exploded_.”

 

“But America’s neutral!” Marcella's outburst was loud in the nearly silent room.

 

“An _isolated_ incident.” Biagio coughed, rubbing his eyes with a clenched fist. “Not by Germans, they say some lightning bolt hit or-”

 

Marcella quickly took out her handkerchief and handed it to him, although she now had nothing to use to cover up her tears. “That’s absolute _rubbish_ , Signore-”

 

“I know. It says,” He skimmed over the letter. “It says that they couldn’t find the bodies of Bianca or N-Niccoló-” His voice cracked on the names of his only grandchildren. “I- could you please go find my wife, Marcella? She needs to know about this immediately.”

 

She nodded her head quickly and exited, still rubbing her eyes.

 

Biagio stared at the fire in his large fireplace, mind whirling. _This can’t be true. Maria and Niccoló and Bianca are my joy, my life- an isolated incident, America was supposed to be safe, they were supposed to be away from_ danger, _not in it. And they can’t find the bodies of Niccoló and Bianca-_ Biagio blew his nose loudly into the borrowed handkerchief. He didn’t want to entertain the idea that they were alive. “The Americans couldn’t even send some kind of urgent telephone message or telegram? A _death certificate_ wouldn’t be questioned if America really was neutral-”

 

Nonna, Rafaella, entered Nonno’s study covered in dirt, a panicked look on her face. It was obvious she had been disrupted during gardening as she tracked mud into the study. “Dear, what happened? I could barely understand Marcella, she was crying so much.”

  
  
Biagio handed her the letter, incapable of answering her in words.

 

Her face distorted into a grim look, her eyes lined with tears when she put the letter on top of his desk and grabbed his hands. “The Americans, they will pay for this-”

 

“I may be the previous ambassador to America but they won’t do anything for an Italian-”

 

“What about your friends over there? Our _daughter-”_ Raffaela let out a loud sob, sniffling heavily. “Our daughter and our grandchildren were killed and all we get is a letter, _days_ after the fact, and Biagio we don’t even have Bianca o-or Nico’s _bodies-”_

 

Biagio pulled her closer to him. “I will do everything in my power to-”

 

“I will ask all my siblings-” Raffaela hiccup. “I think Desiderio knows a few of the President’s aides.”

 

Biagio nodded, gripping her hands tightly. “This will not go unpunished for, Raffaela, don’t worry. ‘Freak incident’ or not, we’ve lost all we have.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

What Nico learned about himself during training with Achilles was not that he was secretly talented at everything to do with swords, or that Nico suddenly found himself and gave up his notions of revenge, or even that Nico had super useful powers that were easy to use.

 

It was that Nico had very little patience with Achilles’s hardheaded attempts to ‘teach’ him.

 

“For a legendary warrior, you really terrible at this!” Nico shouted, pissed, as Achilles made him duck underneath a large beam of a tree where they were practicing in a lesser populated field of Asphodel. “Can’t you tell that I don’t know how to even use a _sword?”_

 

“I didn’t know how to either at the beginning!” Achilles shouted back, waving his swords back and forth as Nico continued to run away from him. “And come back here and fight me!”

 

“You were _impervious_ to _all physical attack s_ _,_ Achilles! And no thank you!”

 

“And if you would just let me dunk you in the river you could also be-”

 

 _“No.”_ Nico refused to go in any more of the Underworld’s rivers since Lethe. Even if it did make you invincible, he wouldn’t risk it.

 

Nico dodged another swing at his head. Achilles had managed to cleave the tree he was hiding behind in half. “Do you have any other way to train me? I can’t learn from ‘try to survive’. If I don’t know how to use a weapon I’m not going to use it to defend myself.”

Achilles stopped coming at him, squinting at Nico. “...If you wish to try it that way.”

“Yes, I would, thank you.” Nico breathed.

 

“What would you like to know?”

 

“Uh, why Minos picked you to teach me.” Nico rolled his eyes at the look Achilles shot him. Somehow, going through the rollercoaster of coming to America and everything following it had made him more than less impressed by authority. “How do I properly use a sword? I was basically handed one and told ‘use that’.”

 

Achilles set his own sword down on the ground. “Okay then, lift up your sword.”

 

Nico took it with two hands and held it up to his eye level.

 

Achilles made a noise that Nico assumed meant ‘disgusted’. “Why are you holding it like that?”

 

 _“Because no one taught me.”_ Nico told him, although he felt slightly offended. He hadn’t stabbed himself yet carrying it around.

 

“Number one, if you can’t hold that sword with one hand you’re going to be in trouble. Try holding it in your right.” Achilles instructed.

 

He tried, but his wrist buckled slightly under the weight, and he had to drop the sword after a few seconds when it had started to become extremely uncomfortable.

 

“That’s pathetic.”  
 

“Like your teaching?”

 

“Do you want me to help you?” Achilles retorted.

 

 _Minos made you help me and you can't quit,_ Nico thought to himself, but didn’t say a word in response.

 

“We need to train you to hold that- that sword must be barely thirty pounds.”

 

“I’m afraid I never really had a weight training class, out of all my tutors-” Nico complained.

 

Achilles ignored him. “Grab it with two hands and bend your knees more.” Nico did as he was told, and Achilles nodded slightly to himself. “Better. Wrap one hand around the top of the handle, and one at the bottom. It will give you a better grip if for now you’re using it with two hands. Good. Now, lower your shoulders-”

This went on for a better part of ten minutes, as Nico’s stand was perfected and switched back and forth multiple times. For the next twenty minutes, Achilles had Nico work through the movements, and by the end of the hour he had an impressive (to Nico) swing using the sword. Achilles seemed pleased with this, for which Nico was grateful for. He didn’t think he could go on much more.

 

“First thing you need to do to gain muscle is to eat more.”

 

Nico laughed. He couldn’t help it.

 

Achilles grew still as Nico’s laughing fit (which continued on for a little while, but Nico couldn’t help it) winded down. “What was funny about that?”

 

“Eating regularly.” Nico breathed shallowly, too out of breath from laughing. “I can’t go into the Palace here to steal food, Persephone I’m pretty sure dislikes me, and Minos always forgets to bring me food when he comes down.”

 

Achilles swore loudly. Nico would be impressed except the words Achilles said made his ears turn a bit red.

 

“You’re just a kid, you can’t eat like a fucking _bird_  if you want to be able to pick up a sword _-_ okay, look, just go talk to the skeleton guards, it’s usually Jeremy and Ted, they’re nice, they’ll let you in three times a day to go eat- wait, are you even sleeping?”

 

“Minos usually just lets me sleep when I fall unconscious from exhaustion.”

 

 _“Dearest Penelope, grant me patience.”_ Achilles said up to the sky (would it count for a sky? It wasn’t _really_ one, just a dark endless abyss above them, but Nico wasn’t too inclined to ask what it really was). “Just- just talk to Jeremy and Ted and say you’re moving it. It’s your birthright and all that. If Persephone gets mad, just tell her she can stick me in Fields of Punishment again for a few days because this is just ridiculous, kid. Where have you been sleeping before?”

 

“Where I fall unconscious, Minos doesn't bother moving me.”

“Why has no one been watching out for you?”

 

Nico stiffened. “I am afraid all of them are dead and can’t talk to me, _or_ just don’t want to.”

 

Achilles threw his hands up in the air. “Fine, whatever kid, we all have tragic backstories- just meet me here tomorrow after you eat and sleep at, three o’clock let’s say?”

 

“How can I tell when that is?” Nico asked.

 

“Oh my gods. Ask someone. I’m done with this.” Achilles grabbed his sword and hefted it over his shoulder (one handedly, Nico noticed, slightly envious) and yelled over his shoulder, “See you tomorrow!”

 

Nico didn’t bother responding. Achilles _had_ been nice to him, giving the chance for Nico go live in the Palace, but that didn’t help the fact that he was also one of the biggest egotistical buttheads to live (and die). Nico put the sword back in his sheath and started the long trek up to the Palace.

 

The closer he got to it, the more Nico dragged his feet less out of exhaustion and more of fear. _What if I’m not allowed in? What if I have to see Babbo? What if Persephone actually hurts me, she doesn’t seem to like me- but then again, who would if your husband cheated on you and had two kids with another woman. I would probably be mad too, not enough to probably hurt the kids, but she’s had a good eighty years to think about this-_

 

“Halt! Who goes there- oh, it’s you.” The first skeleton said. “Welcome back kid!”

 

The second skeleton jabbed his javelin in between the first skeleton’s ribs. “You can’t just be friendly to everyone who approaches! We’re here to _protect_ the Palace, Jeremy!”

 

“But we know this kid!”

 

“It could be an imposter.” The second skeleton argued. “It’s happened before, Jeremy-”

 

“Once!” The first skeleton shook its head. Nico could hear its teeth rattling around. “Once I let in someone disguised- keep in mind it was a _God,_ Ted- and you just can’t let it go!”

 

“It could have been someone dangerous!”

 

“It was _Demeter_!”

 

“Yeah, well, you’ve heard a lot about her and her plants haven’t you? And _oooh!_ When she came in here after Hades made Persephone stay a couple extra days because there was that backlog, don’t you remember, she was _pisseddddddddd_ -”

 

Nico coughed lightly. “I’m sorry to bug you, but I would like to uh, live here? Achilles said I could-”

 

The second skeleton- Ted- pointed its javelin at Nico. “Tell us _exactly_ who you are, exactly like last time, first.”

 

“I’m the son of Hades?” Nico tried. “That was a week ago. I’m sorry, I can’t remember word for word what I said-”

 

“Ahah! Imposter!” Ted yelled.

 

Jeffrey seemed annoyed. “Oh for the love of all that is good and holy, Ted, _let it go._ Why do you want to live here?” Jeremy turned towards Ted and gave it (him?) what Nico guessed was a glare. “Of course he wouldn’t know, Ted! I can’t believe you recently, word for word! What are you-”

Nico waved at them, trying to get their attention again. “I haven’t eaten really in a couple days? And I’ve been sleeping wherever all around here, and I really need a bath-”

 

“You poor thing!” Jeremy exclaimed, but Ted remained unconvinced.

 

“I don’t know, it could still be an imposter-”

“I can shadow travel to convince you?” Nico tried, although he really hoped he didn’t have to. He still got scared sometimes when Minos forced him to do it, Nico was almost positive he was going to end up back in China whenever he tried.

 

“Sure!” Ted said. “You do that, you can come in and live here, we'll be convinced. Of course, that’s not exactly our jurisdiction, but no one will honestly notice; it’s a big castle, people don’t talk to each other."

Jeremy pitched in, “Chef Ormond would love to cook for someone who doesn’t just want ambrosia and nectar all the time-”

 

“Oh, oh, just shadow travel over there, by that bush.” Ted pointed.

 

Nico took a deep breath and pulled the shadows around him, the same cold feeling and darkness covering him. _Okay, by that bush, it’s only a couple feet away._

 

Nico appeared in the bush. He tripped face-first onto it’s thorns, and hissed in pain when he cut his cheek and forehead badly. Neither Ted nor Jeremy seemed to take notice of it.

 

“Great! New tenant!” Jeremy clapped his hands together, but since he was just a skeleton it didn’t make much of a noise (he figured this was the literal example of ‘rattles your bones’). Nico ducked his head into his already grimy sleeve, trying to wipe off some of the blood, but ended up just spreading all over his chin as well.

 

“ _Fantastic_.” Nico stated, and even he wasn’t too sure to which situation he was answering to.

 

Nico new (and only) room was a small one, identical to all the rest in the surrounding hallways, and absolutely impossible to tell apart from the rest if he hadn’t tried to memorize the instructions to get there. Nico liked it for that reason.

 

There was a small window that let in barely any light, but showed a slight glimpse of Persephone’s garden. His bed was tucked in a corner, a wardrobe stood proudly against the opposite wall, and there was a small desk just next to the door to his own personal bathroom.

 

Nico probably took the longest shower of his life after not being able to for _weeks._

 

He felt disgusting and grimy, sweaty and absolutely dirty. His hair was a mess, his skin broke out in rashes, he needed to cut his nails- Nico spent about two hours in the shower scrubbing himself until all of his skin was bright pink, and the hot water _never_ ran out.

 

The real dilemma came after he realized, once he got out of the shower, that he didn’t have any clothes besides the dirty rags he wore before, and the wardrobe was completely empty. Nico _refused_ to put back on his torn and bloody clothes again, but that left him uncomfortably stranded in his room wearing a fluffy towel around his waist and one wrapped around his head. Nico sat down on his bed, staring at his red and peeling hands. “I can not believe this.” Nico said to himself, shaking his head. “Out of all things that would stop me from doing things- no clothes?” He threw his hands up in the air the longer he thought about it. “I can get my memories taken by a river, lose my mother and sister, end up being taught by a ghost and whatever else I’ve faced and _still_ have some semblance of an idea of what to do, and I didn’t think about clothes. Out of all my plans for the future involving what was going happen, I didn’t consider clothes. Or shoes. Oh my goodness, what am I going to do about shoes too? First of all, though, clothes.”

 

Nico looked around the room, hoping to find something that he could use to A: get someone to bring him clothes, or B: find something that was clothes/could be used as clothes, but came up empty except for fashioning himself a toga using his bedsheets.

 

He glanced longingly at the bed, fighting with himself for a moment. “You know what?” Nico decided for himself. “I’ll think about this when I wake up.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Nico didn’t wake up when someone threw open his door, banged together his sword and shield, or when he was violently shaken. For all appearances, Nico was dead to the (Under)world. Achilles was only slightly mollified when Nico ducked his head underneath his pillow to block out the noise, but still the boy didn’t wake up from the racket.

 

“Kid!” Achilles yelled at him, “Hey! Wake up! You missed our training by two hours!”

 

Nico snored on. Achilles turned him over in the bed- “Why the fuck is he naked?” Achilles mumbled to himself- and prepared to yell at him once more, before noticing how deep the shadows underneath Nico’s eyes had gotten, and the increasingly paleness of his skin that shone through now that it wasn’t covered by grime.

 

Achilles didn’t consider himself a softie. He was a warrior, through and through, and he could care about people he knew and loved but for random individuals he didn’t know- he didn’t feel much sympathy. Unfortunately, it seemed that as the years went by he had lost his strength against pitying people. To be fair, Nico looked terrible. There were multiple bruises that covered his neck and eyes, his nose was a bit crooked now (and made him look more like Hades then Achilles would ever tell him) and still had some of his baby teeth barely holding on by a string in his mouth. Maybe Achilles had gotten more empathetic in his old age.

 

Achilles dropped his hand from Nico’s shoulder and replaced the blanket around him from where it was disrupted. He took his sword and shield and left the room, only to return in a few minutes to leave some new clean clothes on the chair by the desk, and carefully closing the door behind him.

 

Nico slept on for another six hours after that.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Every once in awhile, Minos would appear down in the Underworld to send a few hundred souls off into damnation, smile and wave at Hades, yell at Nico, and leave for another week or so. It was a cycle Nico was very used to, and didn’t bother him too much. Minos was a man (spirit, goodness, Nico always did that) of debatable importance, and Nico was fine to remain somewhat off the radar. Of course, this means that as soon as Nico settled into this comfortable get-yelled-at schedule, Minos would throw him into a loop by not only complimenting him (which made Nico suspicious) but also informing him on the whereabouts of other demigods, like Percy and Camp Halfblood, and that weird Titan Army he had heard slight murmurs about, but nothing of true interest.

 

“According to my sources,” _Who is Minos’s sources? Does Minos deal in blackmarket information dealing or something?_ “Percy Jackson and the son of Hermes, Luke, who is actually Kronos inhabiting Luke’s body-”

 

“I don’t get how that’s even possible. Is Luke even alive then? Because aren’t they two souls? Wh-”

 

“It is nothing of importance to you, you wouldn’t understand.” Minos dismissed him, and Nico shut up, as he had learned to when speaking to Minos or else he would have a repeat of the _Pinecone Fiasco._

 

“But, my good Lord, you will be happy to know that Percy Jackson has suffered some truly humiliating defeats.”

 

“Woohoo.” Nico weakly raised his fist in the air. Minos didn’t take any notice of it, he probably didn’t care. “Aren’t you supposed to be supporting Percy though? Isn’t the other option the Titans?”

 

Minos gave him a pinched smile. “It’s all politics now a days, my Lord, you wouldn’t understand.”

 

_Uh huh, sure._

 

Minos gave him a bit more of his speech before abruptly disappearing, no doubt called to visit Hades. Nico took this as his opportunity to find Achilles before the man decided to drag him by his feet to the place they were using to train in Asphodel (again).

 

It was sometime between _Nico getting his butt kicked_ and   _Nico might end up actually obliterated_ in terms of going through set stances of sword fighting while Achilles became more increasingly frustrated, that a skeleton appeared over the hill that they were working beneath, and loudly proclaimed,

 

“His Royal Godliness Hades, Lord of the Underworld, Protector of the Souls of the Mortals and Innocents and the Damned, Supreme Overlord of all that remains his land, the Fields of Asphodel, the Isle of the Blest-”

 

“Just get to the point!” Achilles yelled back up to the skeleton.

 

It seemed slightly offended, but did as it was told. “He requires the presence of his bastard son Niccoló Di Angelo immediately as the Palace.”

 

  
“Why?” Nico shouted back. “Wait, I haven’t done anything illegal have I?” He asked Achilles.

 

“No, just pathetic.” Achilles informed him.

 

“Oh. _Thanks.”_

 

“You’re quite welcome.” Achilles waved up at the skeleton. “He’ll be there in a bit!”

 

The skeleton sputtered. “His Royal Godliness Hades, Lord of the Underworld, Protector of the Souls of the-”

 

“Just say what you have to say, we don't need to hear the titles." 

 

The skeleton huffed. “He wants his bastard _immediately!”_

 

Achilles snorted. “He can wait! I haven’t finished training him yet!”

 

Nico interrupted, “Achilles, it’s fine, I wouldn’t want you end up getting hurt or something for disobeying-”

 

“Hades can kiss my non-existent ass, I have a training schedule I made for you and if I have to rewrite it because of this I will actually throw myself into Tartarus. Now, kid, lift up that sword. We are finishing this within the hour and if you can’t do that I will throw you in instead of me.”

Nico finished his sets before heading up to see Hades.

 

On the way there, Nico tried to think of every reason possible why Hades would want to see him, none of them particularly good except for the idea that he might have caved and is now going to show Nico where Bianca and Mamma were, but Nico knew that was not going to be the case.

 

Ted and Jeremy let him through with little fuss; they were a bit more mellow today, probably because Jeremy refused to speak to Ted after Ted called him ‘an incompetent, lousy excuse of a bone structure’, but Nico was not going to really get into their business. Since he had moved in, Nico had learned a bit more of the ways through the Palace to get to and from his room, but he had still yet to find the kitchen. Someone (or more likely something) was leaving food and water outside of his room about every four hours, always piping hot when Nico opened the door, but he had yet to even discover where it was.

 

The door were still large and tall and nearly impossible for Nico to open if not for the slight crack he wormed his hand through to pry open one of the doors to the throne room. Nico took in a deep breath to prepare himself mentally (and physically if necessary), before stepping in.

 

It was empty, except for a small spirit of a middle aged woman, probably about Nico’s size, gazing intently at the walls.

 

“Hello?” Nico asked, and she didn’t jump but certainly seemed startled.

 

“Oh! I’m sorry, just got caught up- you’re Niccoló, right? Living in room 904 on the third floor by the staircase?”

 

Nico was a bit surprised. “Yes, uh, that is me. Hello, I’m Niccoló.” He held out his hand for her to shake, but she shook her head.

 

“Mortals can’t touch spirits, sweetheart-”

 

“I can though.” Nico quietly informed her, and she seemed even more startled.

 

“Oh.” She replied, and studied him for another moment, before grabbing his hand strongly. “That’s wonderful, very nice to meet you.”

 

“You as well.” Nico nodded his head. “Was it you who called me? I was told it was Had-”

 

She seemed a bit flustered at that. “Ah, yes, well, I may have taken some liberties and used his official proclamation paper and sent it out with a servant to come and find you- but I assure you, it’s important, you weren’t just called here for no reason.”

 

“I doubted I would, and I mean, at least I now live here.”

 

She gave him an awkward laugh. “Yes, uh, you do. I’m Laura Ormond, the head chef here. I’ve been leaving food at your door for a few days now, and I was hoping to show you where the kitchen is and to formally introduce myself, you know, to figure out your allergies to things and stuff like that.”

 

“Food… allergies?” Nico asked her, puzzled. He blinked a few times, trying to think it out. “That seems- entirely possible?”

 

Laura gave him a bit of a strange look, but quickly interjected, “Yes, like to peanuts or gluten or anything like that.”

 

 _What is gluten? Why are people allergic to it? No one ever has mentioned this before now. Is it important? Why are there food allergies? Do I get a rash like from things like hay-fever?_ Nico didn’t voice his questions, in fear of being partially mocked or talked down to by Laura. Instead he simply stated, “I don’t think I’m… allergic to anything like that.”

 

“Well, we’d still like to test you. Did you know that Hades has a slight shellfish allergy? In all of his years, he never knew why his tongue got slightly swollen after eating it.”

 

“How peculiar.” Nico answered helplessly, unable to figure out the right response. “I don’t think I have one-”

 

“That’s what they all say. Come on, Niccoló, follow me. I’ll show you the kitchens and all of that.” 

 

Nico trailed behind her.  _Modern people are odd._

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sometimes i want to make a moodboard or something for this so I can be like 'HERE IS MY IMAGINARY LIFE OF NICO IN PICTURE FORM', and then i realize, i took drama class in highschool for a reason.

Nico was unfortunately very good at getting lost.

 

It wasn’t that his sense of direction wasn’t superior to many others, because if given a direction Nico could find his way out of a maze in no time, which was often how he ended up not becoming too flustered whenever Minos forced him to quickly re-enter the Labyrinth (which hadn’t happened in the past couple weeks, but he wasn’t complaining) or leave again. But to simply put it, the Underworld was big, and trying to find one measly spirit in a population of millions (probably more like _billions,_ Nico thought to himself, and the idea of that many people astounded him) was the annoying equivalent of finding a needle in a haystack, or whatever Don Quixote had called it.

 

Achilles had become more frustrated the longer it took Nico to find Patroclus and pass on his messages, but it wasn’t like Nico had a homing beacon or radar specifically to find Patroclus like Achilles seemed to. Nico had met the spirit only four times in his life, each time for a short period, and never in the same place. But it had been three weeks since the last time Nico had seen Patroclus, and now he carried five or six letters in his hands to pass onto the ghost whenever he saw him next. Nico was hoping that next time would be tonight (or daytime, you couldn’t tell in the Underworld) since Achilles was always more lenient whenever Nico came back with more letters from Patroclus, and so he and set off through the desolate fields and towards the Isles in hopes of catching the illusive man.

 

And that was how he had somehow become lost.

 

Nico didn’t know how many kilometers or miles the entire Underworld was, but the more he wandered through identical paths of dead bushes, trees, and people, the more he began to realize, _I’m kind of lost aren’t I._

 

It wasn’t like there were street names in Hades or anything that could be vaguely helpful. Like geographical markers. 

 

Nico wondered if he could make post signs for it. _94 kilometers to Eternal Damnation, 300 kilometers to Tartarus, 31 kilometers towards Fields of Asphodel;_ Nico would honestly do it if it wasn’t for the fact that it would be too helpful to any hero trying to find something in the Underworld, and Nico was too vindictive to help any demigod at this point.

 

Nico was really trying to distract himself from the fact that besides just turning around and heading back the way he came, he had no clue as to where he was. But there was nothing really stopping him from continuing forwards, nothing besides a vague sense of ‘well you probably shouldn’t be who’s stopping you’, and yeah, who was there to stop him? No one had been watching out for Nico in months. He continued on past darkened branches of slivers of trees, and down the rocks that made up the small road he was following, and Nico was content with that.

 

It was pure luck and happenstance that Nico ended up finding Patroclus anyways, heading towards Nico in a mockery of their first meeting.

 

“Son of Hades!” The Greek proclaimed loudly, staring down at Nico. “You’re far from your usual haunt.” _I refuse to believe that was a purposeful pun._

 

“I came looking for you, Achilles has been in a bad mood-” Nico started, but Patroclus merely let out a sigh at the words and nodded his head in understanding.

 

“He does that, my apologies for having to deal with him in one of his moods. May I?” Patroclus asked, and Nico handed him the bundle of letters, and Patroclus pulled out of his own small side pouch a stack of letters, much like the ones he had just exchanged. “May I ask why you are down here though?”

 

Nico shrugged. “I couldn’t find you anywhere else- but where are we? It’s quiet here, and I would have thought the Underworld would always be so busy, what with how many people are here.”

 

Patroclus looked behind him with a look that bordered on fear and hatred. “You’re approaching the edge of the Underworld, near the river Oceanus- it is a beautiful place, the only one that contains any life in this place of death, but Achlys and Eurynomos often roam around there, searching for poor souls. I would not recommend going to it.”

 

Nico felt his curiosity betraying him, and he peaked behind the spirit, but could only see a never-ending cleared pathway that did not curve with the Earth. “Achlys? Eurynomos? I’ve never heard of Gods with those names.”  


“It is no wonder, you do not pray to such ones.” Patroclus looked vaguely ill. “Achlys is fine, she is the daughter of Nyx and although just listening to her is depressing, she isn’t harmful. But Eurynomos-” He shivered, although Nico knew that ghosts could feel no changes in temperature. “He is terrifying. He eats everything but the bones of corpses- which is why he remains around the river of life, in hopes of finding some poor soul and their body. I’m lucky I am a ghost that he has nothing to pick off of, but son of Hades, for your own sake, _do not go there_ unless you wish to be a part of the Underworld permanently from now on. Eurynomos is too-” Patroclus looked ill, and blanched, although Nico wasn’t sure if anyone else would be able to tell the difference between the normal colorings of spirits and their frightened appearances.

 

Nico felt like backing up immediately at the threat, and although he could neither see nor hear the flow of the river Oceanus, he had no desire to go any closer anymore. “I hadn’t realized that creatures like that lived down here, I thought you’d only find Gods like that in Tartarus-”

 

“No one likes to be reminded of the terrors that can affect their everyday selves, and not just the ones like Ixion or others in that Hell.” Patroclus stated, and put a hand on Nico’s shoulder before twisting him back around towards where he had come from. “You should try and remain far from here- Eurynomos rarely ventures far, but when he does you’ll be able to tell by the vultures prowling in the air. On days like that, Son of Hades, you _must_ remain inside. I have no desire to see you dead before your time by someone like that.”

 

Nico felt touched by the concern the spirit was showing him, however grim it was. “Thank you, I will follow your advice.”

 

Patroclus patted his back, and released his grip. “I did not mean to make the mood so somber. How is your training going? I have heard little of it from Achilles, it’s taken a while to catch up on the past millennia we’ve missed together.”  


 

“I don’t blame you for not talking much about me.” Nico admitted. “It is going… well. I can carry my sword now with one hand and I can run away far enough to escape Achilles for about two minutes, but it’s not- fast paced. I don’t feel like I’m improving, even though now I’m eating and sleeping.”  


“It takes time.” Patroclus soothed, but Nico shook his head.

 

“Other demigods, from my understanding, are proficient in weeks. What is my issue?”

 

“Have you learned how to use a weapon before?”

 

They drifted closer to the Fields of Asphodel, and Nico was pleased to see a few spirits around them. “A gun.”  


“Which one is that again?” Patroclus asked.

 

Nico blinked, and thought about it for a few seconds. _I never thought I’d have to explain a gun. When was firepowder created again? Wasn’t it the ninth century in China, and then it became popular in the 1400s for the Persians and Mughals?_ “It’s like, an explosive- you know what an explosive is right?”

 

“Vaguely.” The hero admitted.

 

“Essentially, there’s a reaction where this powder is set on fire, partially, and to aim this reaction it’s put into a small handheld cannon- you know what a cannon is right?” Patroclus nodded. “Oh, good. So you have this cannon, and this controlled explosion, and you set it off at someone and from around 200 feet or closer you can kill someone with it, because it’s pretty messy business and after times it shatters and created shrapnel.”

 

“It sounds quite dangerous.” The ghost muttered.

 

Nico scratched his cheek, the description itself was uncomfortably barbaric, even to the ten year old. “I was trained to use it from an early age, especially after the Great War, there was too much fear to not learn how to do it.”

 

“I think your issue is then is that you’re so used to having the idea of being able to run away, or be farther away from your enemy- close contact is frightening to you, which is why you run away from Achilles in order to gain space.”  


 

Nico glanced up at the ghost. “That’s… an astute observation.”

 

Patroclus smiled at him, but it wasn’t warm, just nostalgic. “Achilles might be the military genius, with good plans and unearthly fighting abilities, but I was always more capable of figuring out why something wasn’t working then he was.”  


Nico sensed some slight bitterness from that statement, and simply let their conversation fall into silence. He shuffled the letters from Patroclus in his hands over and over- a habit that would have had Nonna discreetly murmur at him to cease, but Patroclus payed no attention to. Nico forced his hands to stop though, and instead swing idly by his side. _I want Nonna._ He thought to himself. _I miss her._

 

And he really did miss her, with her strong hands and sharp tongue, and the way she’d always be able to get Mamma to do what she said even though Mamma was just as fickle as Bianca was. Nico would sit there for hours while Nonna chattered on about politics or whatever was bugging her at the moment, and carefully straighten her head-wrapping, which he knew she kept mostly out of spite and pride more then she did of any actual religious belief.

 

Nonno would always talk about how proud he was of his wife- how stubborn she was, how beautiful- and Nonna would just nod her head along with his compliments until they railed off, in which then she’d turn towards her husband and say, “And? Keep going, Biagio.”

 

Nico missed them dearly.

 

Patroclus coughed into his hands to grab Nico’s attention, and the boy turned to look at him. It seemed during their brief lapse in conversation, they managed to come to one of the major crossroads in the Underworld, where Nico knew that he and Patroclus would have to leave each other.

 

“It was great seeing you, thank you for your help.” Patroclus smiled politely, and Nico gave him one back too.

 

“You as well, thank you for warning me about Eurynomos.”

 

Patroclus took in a sharp intake, “Of course, he’s terrifying, he’s no one I would ever introduce someone too. You take care now, Son of Hades, and spend more time above ground. Your skin is becoming too grey to be healthy.” The spirit turned on his heel and headed down towards Elysium.

 

Nico glanced down at his skin, but refused to think about what the other had said, and simply left from the crossroads as well down towards where he knew Achilles was probably waiting around. Much to his prediction, the spirit was there swinging his sword idly to and fro, and as soon as he caught sight of his pupil did Achilles rest his sword against a tree and bound towards him- not that the spirit would ever admit such a thing. “DId you find him?”

 

Nico handed the letters towards the Greek hero, and Achilles grinned brightly. “Thanks, kid. How about you take today off? I’ve been pushing you kind of hard, haven’t I? Take a break, you deserve it.”  


_You just want to spend your afternoon dissecting Patroclus’s letters._ Nico thought, but instead he quietly said goodbye to the hero and headed back up towards the Palace.

 

It was a different group of skeletons, much quieter, and Nico merely inclined his head and they gave a brief shake of theirs before letting him through.

 

In all the empty halls of the Palace, there were no echoes, no sights of poorer conditions, nothing that would distinguish the corridors as places where things had happened, where people died, where people had lived before and left their mark. Nico hated it, the longer he spent time in the Palace, and the amount of things he knew about the Palace and it’s residents remained the same.

 

The Di Angelos were a proud family, where every matriarch stitched the names of the newly-born family members onto the long family tapestry that went from nine hundred and sixty two all the way up until the last major birth, which was Nico’s. Their house was filled with reminders of all those who had lived, the walls filled with pictures of deceased relatives, and the family house whose land had been theirs for over seven centuries was surrounded with gravestones, all equally upkept and cared for. Even their house, which had been built and added onto many times throughout the years carried marks of age and prosperity that had lingered over the years. Nico’s room in the house, when he stayed there during the summer months with Nonno and Nonna, was the same room Nonno used to stay, and where Niccoló II stayed. The room next door to his had a small dent in the ceiling due to Emiliana Di Angelo, who in 1822 dropped one of her schoolbooks so harshly out of frustration that it broke a floor beam. The kitchen had multiple fires, including one in 1695 that killed two young children, Ines and Silas, and on the anniversary of their deaths Nonna would carefully clean the two holy crosses placed above the entrance and the exit of the kitchen and would whisper a prayer to God to bless their souls. Twice a year, Nico and Bianca would have to go outside and clean out the dirt that had settled into the grout of the names of those buried on the family land, and would leave out fresh flowers on each clean grave to allow their family members to rest in Heaven while knowing their body would be safe on Earth.

 

Nico knew there must be no one honoring such traditions now at home. The Palace of the Dead was just that- dead, like it had never been lived in, and Nico didn’t want to believe that there was no skeletons in the closet (not literally), that there wasn’t anything that would set it apart from any other unlived in monstrosity.

 

He wandered down the hallways, getting deeper and deeper into the caverns of the Palace, but for once Nico wasn’t afraid about getting lost, he just wanted to go someplace where it was different, where it felt like home, where it wasn’t on Earth itself where people and places were different and nothing was right. Nico just wanted to find something that reminded him of home in this great place of glory.

 

He opened the door at the end of a small narrow hallway, expecting it to open up into a small stairwell like the ones he had come through before, but instead was stopped dead in his tracks by the small room, that housed only a bed, a bedside table, an empty flowerpot, and a woman.

 

“Hades, is that you?” She called out, and Nico stumbled in his haste to enter the room. “It’s been so long since you’ve visited. Why haven’t you visited? It’s been so lonely in here.”

 

Nico didn’t respond as he came closer, close enough to see her face, and the little boy scrubbed fiercely at his eyes. “No, Mamma, it’s not him, it’s me, Niccoló-”

 

It was Nico’s first time seeing his mother in eighty years. He grabbed the flower pot and let out wretches, until his stomach was empty and his mouth tasted like death. He wiped his mouth with the back of his dirty jacket and pushed the flowerpot- _sorry Persephone-_ back towards the wall, before steeling himself to see his mother again. Nico moderated his breathing, closed his eyes and tried to think of her before her death, her smile and her beauty, and turned towards her once again.

 

There was no beauty now, for she was just a pile of disfigurements and limbs. The only part of her that was put together, like a gruesome jigsaw puzzle, was her head, and even so her nose was not lined up with the other half of it, and her eyes were facing different directions.

 

“Mamma?” Nico whispered. “Mamma, please.”  


One half of her face smiled, but the other half didn’t look like it was even connected to her. “Helloooooo? Who is there? Is that you Hades, you said you’d visit but you don’t anymore, not since-”

 

Nico hastily came out of the corner, but slowed his approach as she made eye contact with him.  “It’s _me,_ M-Mamma, Niccoló.”

 

“I have a son called Niccoló.” Maria mentioned, and Nico swallowed.

 

“Si, Mamma, that’s me. I’m your son.”

 

“My son is dead, that’s not very nice of you to say that you are him.”

 

“No- no Mamma, I’m not dead, I’m right here, I’m here for you Mamma-”

 

Maria’s right eye fell out of her socket. “Liar!” She declared, but that attrition seemed to have taken most of the energy out of her, and she turned back to look at the ceiling. She paused, before her eyes rolled over to look at him again. “Hades, is that you? You look different, smaller.”

 

“I’m not Hades, Mamma- I’m-” Nico tried one again, but his hands were shaking and it took all of his effort to keep his eyes trained on his mother’s face, instead of the discards of her body that were spread out all over the bed in no real order.

 

“Are you a friend?” She asked, and Nico nodded his head feverently.

 

“Yes, Mamma, I’m a friend.”

 

“A friend of Hades?”

 

“Si, a friend of Hades.” Nico replied, and she looked at him and gave him a bright smile, a smile that Nico remembered clearly from before, back when it wasn’t pieced together like a Frankenstein creature.

 

“Friend of Hades, will you read to me? I’m awfully bored in here, and Hades doesn’t visit much at all.”

 

 _He won’t let me visit my own mother but he won’t keep her company either._ “I- I- Sure, Mamma, what do you want me to read?” Nico asked desperately. _I’m not going to leave you, I’ll do anything you ask me to, please Mamma what happened why are you like this._   


“Oh, anything. There should still be books in here from the last time Hades came, but that was a long _long_ time ago and I don’t know if anyone’s taken them away. Can you check?”   


Nico looked bent down to look underneath her bed and found two hand-sized books, barely opened. Nico had a hard time telling whether they were hardly ever read or never read at all. “Which one would you prefer M-Mamma, _A Tale of Two Cities_ or _Les Misérables_?”

 

“Whichever one is happier.” Maria stated, but her eyes were not focused on Nico anymore, only at the blanket that hung at the side of her bed. “Oh please, make it something happy.”  


Nico had opened his mouth to say, _neither of them are truly happy, Mamma,_ but he felt like that was too cruel to say to her. So he sat down on the floor next to her bed, and opened up _Les Misérables_ to it’s first page, and tried to ignore how blurry his eyesight had gotten. “ _Chapter One, Monsieur Myriel. In 1815, M. Charles-Francois-Bienvenu Myriel was Bishop of D—— He was an old man of about seventy-five years of age; he had occupied the see of D—— since 1806. Although this detail has no connection whatever with the real substance of what we are about to relate, it will not be superfluous-”_

 

Nico spent the entire night in her room with his mother, until his voice became hoarse from reading and Maria became unresponsive. At that point, he clumsily stood up from his spot on the ground where his legs had fallen asleep, and whispered, “Sleep well, Mamma, I’ll be back in a little while,”, but she did not answer. He left the book on her nightstand that she couldn’t touch, with nothing of her together and her hands in the little pile that remained of her spiritual body, and adjusted the lighting in her room to dim to give her a sense of restfulness.

 

Nico carefully shut her door behind him- _where she was kept in the smallest, darkest, and far-away corridor where no one will find her and where no one will ever visit her, and obviously no one has in such a long time-_ before heading back up to his room, for once grateful that no one seemed to live in the Palace because he didn’t know how he would react to anyone if they tried to talk to him at that moment, when he felt overwhelmed and sick and he just wanted to go _home_.

 

Nico dropped his coat on the ground, and undid his shoes with a sense of numbness he had not felt even when Bianca had died, because that was anger and Nico was intimately aware of anger in a way no one should be, but this was a sense of grief and despair that he hadn’t had to deal with before, and he just wanted to talk to Mamma, and be with Mamma, but he couldn’t because she was nothing more then a broken spirit with no sense of self and left to _rot_ in a way that Nico couldn’t understand _.  If Hades really loved my mother he wouldn’t leave her like this. He wouldn’t have let her become like this. Mamma doesn’t deserve this, Mamma deserves better, he’s had eighty years to put her back together and he hasn’t even tried and she doesn’t even know who I am, and she thinks I’m dead, and she’s not there she’s just not there what happened to Mamma._

 

Nico fell into his bed with a loud hiccuping sob, but didn’t dream.

 

He was glad at least for that one small victory. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a very quick update because I was inspired and im not an ass who keeps chapters under hostage until they write another one, as i'm sure many of you can tell by my infrequent updates. Thanks for all your support! it helps a lot.
> 
> also quick reminder: nico is a kid from the 1930s, he's 11, the story is third person omnipresent so it's going to reflect those types of values.
> 
> this chapter was inspired by:  
> *tevye's voice* TRADITION

Nico didn’t bother eating before returning to his mother, knowing it would be nearly impossible for him to keep it down. It made no difference that her body was no longer physical, Nico knew from experience that touching a spirit made them feel _real,_ warm and bloody included in that. He crept inside her room, in hopes of not disturbing her, but Maria was already awake when he appeared and seemed pleased at the sight of him.

 

“Hades!” She cried, and gave him a wide smile that Nico wished she wouldn’t flash, especially knowing that his father didn’t deserve her devotion. _He’s left her here for so long. I thought he loved her._

 

“It’s Niccoló- your friend, Mamma. Do you remember me, from yesterday?” Nico came closer to her, shoulders hunching in on himself the closer he came to his mother.   


“You’re the one who stole my son’s name.” Maria frowned at him. “It’s not very nice of you to do that, you should give it back to him.”

 

“Whenever I see him I will be sure to do so, but until then can I keep it?” Nico pleaded, and his mother seemed to think it over for a few moments, before humming. She never hummed when he was younger, and he wondered if it was due to the fact that her neck was destroyed that she had to hum instead of nod. She always said humming gave her a headache, something Nonna disproved; Nonna insisted that it was because she liked the ‘flair’ moving her head took when it wasn’t appropriate to gesture with her hands instead. Nico didn’t really understand any of it, and decided to just let them deal with it.  

 

“Go ahead, then, but give it to him immediately when you see him, okay! My son should be down here, he must be so old that he’s dead, but he hasn’t come to visit. Why hasn’t he visited? I saw a little girl down here, once, who looked like Bianca- but it couldn’t have been Bianca, my girl wouldn’t be so ruined- oh, it was terrible, she looked so _chewed up.”_   


“Chewed up?”  


“Like something bit her in half- I asked her about it, but she said she hadn’t even noticed. Isn’t that funny? It’s a part of you, how can you not notice?” Maria pouted, and Nico didn’t respond to that.

 

“But when did she come visit?” Nico pushed.  


“The girl? Oh, a while ago, months before you arrived, she seemed unhappy to be here though and I can’t blame her, it gets awfully boring here-”

 

“Then I’ll come read to you everyday, Mamma.” Nico crunched the fabric of his pants in between his fingers. “If it’s boring.” Mamma didn’t even think it was Bianca- he didn’t know Bianca had visited her.

 

Maria gave him a brilliant smile. “How sweet of you, my friend. Can you sing? I miss singing, but Hades said it was pure luck that he managed to put back together my vocal chords and that I shouldn’t hurt them by trying to sing. Isn’t that terrible? Oh, I’ve tried before, but it hurt _so much_ and I couldn’t speak for weeks.”   


“That’s awful, Mamma.” Nico breathed out slowly, “You were stuck here alone for weeks and you couldn’t speak?”

 

“Weeks? Oh, much longer, must have been years, but I don’t blame Hades, he’s awfully busy nowadays-”

 

Nico shook his head vehemently, “That is no reason to leave you here all alone, Mamma, you can’t even move-”

 

“He’s _busy_ .” She replied firmly, and gave him a look that he hadn’t seen in years since he was younger, one that said he should be more kind or considerate. “You mustn’t say such poor things about him.”   


“It’s because of him you’re like this.”

 

“It’s because of _Zeus_ I am like this, and I can’t blame Hades for not protecting me. He saved my little boy and little girl, that’s all I’ve ever wanted.”   


“But you died so young and your parents-”

 

“They had Nico and Bianca, I’m sure they were well cared for.”  


 

_Did Hades tell her this or is she just so hopeful that she’s convinced herself that it’s true?_

 

Nico stared at her intently, his eyes flickering all over her face in hopes of figuring out the answer, before bowing his head demurely. “If you say so, Mamma. Shall I finish the chapter?”

 

“Oh, yes please. Thank you, you’re very kind. Your mother must be so proud.”

 

Nico choked up for a few moments, and he grappled with the book before finally opening it to the page where they had left off. “I-I really hope so, Mamma.”

  


* * *

 

 

Nico wondered if Achilles had noticed that he had missed his lesson for that day (night? Nico really wished he had a clock, or at least a calendar) after spending all of his time with his mother, but at the same time Nico knew that often times Achilles would get distracted trying to come up with the perfect words to describe how much he missed Patroclus, and had missed their lessons on occasion. Nico’s real worry was that Minos would appear, but the King hadn’t shown his face around the Underworld in weeks, and Nico’s gut told him it wouldn’t be for a while yet.

 

Mamma was still- broken up. But it was the least Nico could do but to sort her pieces _(she was in three hundred and six different pieces thanks to Zeus)_ and try and arrange her into something resembling what she should have been, and even though Mamma cried while he put her together, the way his hands slipped on the phantom blood that still seeped from her wounds, he could see it in the way her eyes became less cloudy the more her hands seemed to come together, how she felt more put together just by being in some human-like shape. It felt like the least he could do for his mother.

 

Nico started from her neck down, and became familiar with the human body because of it, using the back of _Les Misérables_ to draw out a skeleton and trying to piece her body together by using his memory and his terrible hand-drawn diagram. It was far from perfect. Nico got her vertebrates mixed up, and the way her collarbone fit was uncomfortable and Nico felt like something was missing that he might have ended up putting in the ‘innards’ pile, but Mamma seemed happier whenever he got something right, the closer he got to making her whole again. Nico wondered why Hades had never bothered to put her together, to sew her back into herself, and it only made him work longer and harder, switching her pinkies back and forth until he was sure they were in the right spots and singing to her under his breath to keep her calm.

 

Mamma liked his singing, she mentioned her favorite songs- _the same ones she had always loved-_ and was pleased when Nico could sing them to her by heart. “It’s funny how similar you and my boy’s voice are. Oh, I miss Niccoló. Have you seen him yet?”

 

Nico shook his head. “No, Mamma, I haven’t seen him yet.”

 

“You should find him soon, his voice is wonderful, just like yours. Maybe he could teach you some of the songs we sang together. I miss them, how they’d roll off the tongue-”

 

“If you tell me them I may know them.” Nico interjected, and his mother’s eyes focused on him.

 

“Do you know _L'uccellino_?” She asked slowly, like she had trouble remembering it herself. “I can’t remember how it sounded, only that I loved it so very much-”

 

Nico clasped her hand- it was whole enough that he could do so, and if he ignored the way it oozed blood on him slowly he could almost pretend that she could squeeze him back. “Si, Mamma, I know that song.”

 

He sung it over and over, each time he came to the end she’d desperately demand him to repeat it, and he sung it for the entire afternoon until his voice once again became hoarse and hurt because he hadn’t drunk any water in the past twenty four hours and he should do that before he passed out once more. But Nico hadn’t felt so happy in months, with Mamma smiling behind him staring at some faraway place, her upper body almost completely put together, her hair pulled up out of her face and her eyes bright like they were whenever Nico or Bianca had made her proud. It was all Nico could have ever hoped for.

 

Nico wanted to place a kiss on her forehead, like she would do to him every night after blessing him, but he knew she would only question it and Nico didn’t want to ruin the serenity that floated in the room. He quietly took his leave, after wishing her a good night, and Maria said after him, “Come again!”

 

Nico told her he would, and shut the door behind him. For once in his life, it didn’t hurt too much to smile.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Nico visited her every morning, before he had lessons with Achilles, and after dinner, where he would continue his human puzzle, or read to Mamma, or sing, or whatever she desired that day. It was an errand Nico would not miss for the world.

 

Achilles hadn’t noticed the change in Nico’s mood, for even Nico wasn’t sure what had changed about him besides the fact that something had fundamentally shifted. Nico’s swordsmanship hadn’t improved or gotten worse over the course of Nico’s lessons, but simply plateaued. He could tell how it was frustrating to Achilles, who probably only taught budding geniuses- Minos had made Achilles take Nico on with underhanded threats and pleas, neither of them wanted to be there if not for fear of what Minos would do for them. Nico could tell in the way Achilles became more and more discouraged as time went on, as Nico couldn’t get rid of his fear of close contact, and the lessons became shorter and shorter.

 

It meant that Nico could spend more time with his mother, and less time outside in the Underworld.

 

Patroclus seemed to notice this, the next time he caught the son of Hades. “I haven’t seen you around very often now, or training with Achilles. Has something happened?”

 

Nico shrugged, unsure of how to react. Patroclus had caught him after coming back from a short meeting with Achilles, where the Greek hero told him essentially _I can’t help you, you need to figure out something that works because I don’t think a sword is going to work for you._ It was hard to be positive after that. “It’s nothing.”

 

“You’ve spent a lot of time in the Palace now, less wandering.”

 

“I-I’ve taken your warning seriously.”  Nico fibbed, fiddling with his sword.

 

Patroclus looked surprised. “You have?” He glanced up at the sky, before back down at the child. “I- Son of Hades, I hadn’t meant to scare you so much about Eurynomos, as long as you don’t go down to far to Oceanus you’ll be fine, I hadn’t meant for you to be terrorized by fear from him!”

 

Nico waves him away and simply states, _“Chi ben vive, ben predica.”_

 

Patroclus pauses, “Sorry?”

 

“Proverbs don’t translate?” Nico scratched behind his ear. “I’ve been speaking in Italian this entire time but I hadn’t realized that some things don’t translate. It means, basically-” He hesitated, trying to come up with the closest translation. “Basically, ‘If you preach well, you live well’. Oh, no, rather: ‘if you give good advice and follow that advice, you’ll live a good life’.”

 

Patroclus nodded his head in understanding, the Greek musing over it slowly. “It sounds very much like something the Romans would say.”

 

“I haven’t met very many Romans, with how much you people don’t like admitting that they exist, so I’ll take your word for it.” Nico told him dryly.

 

Patroclus looked ashamed for a second at his admission, before he seemed to make his decision: “I think the whole thing about keeping Greek and Romans separate is stupid, no one else does that! Of course, no other Gods have two different versions of themselves, but really it is much easier to deal with, and we wouldn’t have to worry about children on the west coast of America being only Roman, or sometimes the rare child will be Greek but ends up getting hunted by monsters and ends up at the Roman camp and then we have to use the mist- It gets to be too much.” The Greek fumed. “I really think we should just tell the Greeks and Romans about each other, especially since they’re going to be meeting here in the Underworld anyways when they’re dead.”

 

 _I didn’t know about that._ Nico let out a sound he hoped came across as understanding. “It does sound very troublesome.”

 

“It is. Worst of all, half the children don’t grow well under the Roman institutions or the Greek institutions, and would grow by using the other’s methods. You yourself, son of Hades, would do well with the strictness of Roman life. I just don’t understand why we don’t _merge_ the Camps.”

 

“Really?” Nico inquired. “You think so? And wouldn’t that be difficult to merge?”

 

“Oh, I think it’d work fine. The Greek children are too lax, what with Dionysus in charge, and Lupa does a fine job in raising her children, combined they be practically perfect. Especially if they- oh, no. Uh, I should probably stop talking.” Patroclus prodded himself. “I’ve really said far too much now.”

 

Nico tried to calm the worried man, “If anything you’ve helped me realize how I might grow as a warrior, really, you’ve probably just helped save my life-”

 

“By exposing a millennium's worth of secrets?” Patroclus threw his hands up in the air, but seemed somewhat calmer by Nico’s admission. “But, I mean, if it helps…”

 

“It does,” Nico soothed, and the hero’s feathers seemed to have flattened. “I really think your idea has great merit.”

 

“Well,” Patroclus sighed, and waved his hand like he was trying to dispel everything he had said about the Romans from the air. “Don’t be too afraid to spend time out here, and don’t worry too much about Achilles, you’ll improve, I know you will.”

 

Nico thanked him with a strained smile, before heading towards the Palace. He needed to bring water down with him if Mamma wanted him to sing again, and his voice still hadn’t recovered from the day before. Nico wanted to last for as long as he could before Hades realized that he was visiting and hid Mamma once again from Nico.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

It had been an entire week since Nico had found Mamma when Minos finally showed his face once more in the Underworld, this time bearing a small cake with the words _Feliz Cumpleaños,_ which Nico suddenly understood with dawning horror, was for _him_. It would have been touching, had it not come from Minos, and Nico could have put up with the wrong language if again, it hadn’t come from Minos.

 

“I haven’t heard much from Achilles about your progress. How is it going?” Minos simpered, and all of Nico’s instincts told him _lie you fool if you want to live, lie!_

 

“Not too good or too bad, I’m having difficulties with handling a sword-” Nico started, and Minos scoffed.

 

“What kind of child of the Big Three has issues with a sword? Is there something you’re not telling me, my Lord? Are you some kind of child of Aphrodite?”

 

“I hear they’re more frightening then the children of Ares.” Nico stated simply, as Minos wandered around Nico’s room. It was lucky he had appeared when he did, because Nico knew had he been with his mother then Nico would have been gone from the Underworld in a flash. Minos wasn’t fond of having attachments to places, which is why he stuck him down in the Underworld in the first place. No one _liked_ the Underworld.

 

“It depends on what you’re afraid of- love or guts.” Minos wrinkled his nose. “I always found them both distasteful, but nothing to be scared of. But what are you going to do instead, archery? Like you’re some child of Apollo?”

 

“I was hoping that a gun-”

 

Minos laughed at him, loud and spiteful, and Nico felt a flush overcome his neck in a way that only happened whenever the ghost king appeared. “A gun? How _juvenile._ You don’t want to get up close and personal with your enemies?”

  
  
Nico’s temper finally burst out, “I don’t understand what the difference is between archery and guns for that matter if the only issue is fear of distance, _Minos._ ”

 

“Haven’t you heard that our environment is dying, my Lord? Arrows are reusable, bullets are not.”  


“That’s some _horseshit_ you’re spewing Minos, and you and I both know that’s not why archery is used-” Nico spit.

 

“If only your darling mother could hear you say those words, you used to be so polite. What happened?”

 

Nico took in deep breathes to reign in every nasty thought he had towards Minos, because Minos was right. He didn’t _say_ things like that, it was only Minos and the events that he put him through that made Nico so _vicious._ “Why can’t I use a gun?”

 

“Tradition.” Minos stated simply.

 

Nico let out a loud scoff. “We aren’t Jewish.”  


“Careful, my Lord, your _racism_ is showing.”

 

Nico bristled, “I’m not _German_ , Minos. That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

 

Minos rolled his eyes, “You can use a sword infinitely many times and it’ll never break, it will have praises sung about it, it will be used for generations- a gun is loud, tacky, infantile. It needs bullets, it needs maintenance, it’s not good in a fight where it will get jammed or knocked out of your hand.”  


 

“Then get some God to bless a gun like they have every other weapon that’s come by them!” Nico bit, and he was grateful that Minos was halfway across his room or Nico wouldn’t have been able to keep his hands to himself.

 

 _“Tradition.”_ Minos repeated, and Nico couldn’t help the way the words flew out of him when he yelled,

 

“Then _fuck_ tradition!”

 

Minos tutted, but seemed utterly pleased. “Harsh words, Niccoló, not many of your counterparts would be pleased to hear them.”

 

“I don’t care for what my counterparts think as long as I am alive to hear them say the words, Minos- I need a gun. It can be old, it can be loud, it can be broken. I just need a gun and I need some bullets.”  
  
Minos peered intently at Nico, watching his star little pupil, before a gun appeared in Minos’s hands and he tossed it at the demigod, who caught it with little fanfare. “If you think I would allow one of my men into a field with a _laughingstock_ of a broken weapon, you’re a fool, my Lord. I want progress by you using it, and if I see progress then I’ll get your gun blessed by some upstart God. Is that clear?”

 

Nico settled back on his bed, carefully cradling the gun in his hands. “Yes, Minos, very clear. Thank you.”  


The king disappeared from his room with nothing but a quick movement of shadows, and Nico was alone with his gun.

 

He turned it over in his hand- it was small, silver, and unnamed, but when Nico flicked off the safety and held it strong with one hand, it felt more like power then he had ever felt when carrying a sword. He shook it slightly, and felt no bullets, but he couldn’t tell if that was because it had an infinite amount or Minos was just a large piece of _-_

 

Nico stepped out of his room and headed outside to test it out. _I hope this goes well._

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

It wasn’t like birthdays were complete parties of innumerable value, where all the highest most guests were invited to, because if there was one thing Di Angelos liked it was their peace and quiet, and that left them in a closed off corner from most of the world even when they didn’t want to be in one.

 

Nico never found it stifling in the way that Mamma and Bianca did, the afternoons spent in Venice under the protection of people Nico had known for the entirety of his life, especially after Mamma had gotten famous. Bianca thought of it as too much, and whenever she met someone new she’d latch onto them until Mamma could pry her off, and without a doubt Bianca would try to invite them to her birthday party, or Christmas dinner with family, and it was all a big fuss whether Bianca would get her way or she wouldn’t.

 

Nico didn’t have that problem. He was very shy as a child, and was glad for any opportunity he had to _not_ talk to strangers. It made times spent with his grandfather’s friends awkward, and Nico knew that when he got older it would be less endearing then it was at that moment, but it meant that for every celebration for Nico he’d wake up to a calm house with his family there to celebrate, and that was enough for him.

 

On his tenth birthday when he hit double digits, Nonno gave him a cross made out of pure gold that belonged to _his_ father’s-father, while Nonna blessed him in both Arabic and Latin ‘just in case’ like she would for Nonno before any big event. Mamma made him a cake filled with strawberries, the kinds that Nico knew would only be growing in France at this time of year, and Bianca even embroidered him a cloth to wipe his face with before every meal, although she told him quite plainly that if he ruined it she would not be making him another one considering how much she disliked embroidery.

 

Nico prefered days like that endlessly compared to Bianca’s parties, where you’d spend days preparing and fussing and buying things only for a few hours of amusement with people you didn’t really know and weren’t quite fond of; but Nico would leave her to her own doings as long as she didn’t try to disturb his birthdays, so he kept his mouth shut.

 

But he loved his birthdays, and looked forward to them every year. It was like a second Christmas, where the gifts would be distributed in January and then more would come only weeks later. Nonna found his simple pleasure in receiving gifts so soon after Christmas to be funny; there were many things the Di Angelos would disturb, but the sanctity of birthdays was not one of them. Nico was inclined to keep it like that.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> boiiiii. thank you for your continued support on both lethe and acheron! also this is short but soon we'll be back to longer chapters.
> 
> i am literally only excited for jules albert to show up. i have so much planned for him. 
> 
> also: why doesn't anyone question nico's fucking accent. have you guys ever heard an italian accent. its so thick. the first thing americans would do would be ask 'omg where are you from' like, plot hole rick where is nico being recognizes everywhere he goes. "have you seen a short kid wearing all black?" "that could be anyone" "he had an italian accent" "o shit yeah he went that way"

It was a rare day that Nico and his father would come face to face in the Palace, much to the fact that Nico was only ever with his mother, in the kitchen, or in his room. He hadn’t seen his father in weeks, or similarly his stepmother, until Nico opened the door leading to the staircase down to Maria, and was greeted with the pleasant sight of both of them on the landing.

 

“Persephone,” Nico stated politely, nodding his head at the Goddess. He did not say anything to his father.

 

Nico stepped out of their path in front of the door, holding it open to them, and both Persephone and Hades stepped through with an inclination of their heads. The boy waited until they were a few meters away from him before he stepped through the doorway, and let the door shut behind him slowly, putting more distance between himself and his family until he heard Hades’s sharp voice demand, “Niccoló!”

 

Nico reluctantly opened the door again and asked, “Yes?”

 

Hades seemed pensive, staring at his son. Behind him was Persephone, crossing her arms, and Nico’s mind was filled with the terrifying image of being turned into a corn plant if he crossed her the wrong way. He vowed to never get on her bad side.

 

“Niccoló, I have a trade to offer you.”

 

Nico stood up straighter, opening the door wider. “Yes?” _Is it Mamma? Bianca? A way back to Italy? A god-forbidden apology?_

 

“Should you enter the Labyrinth and give me the soul of Daedalus, I will trade it for Bianca’s. A soul for a soul.”

 

Nico’s eyes widened, and the possibilities of it all almost scared him. _Bianca for Daedalus. A soul for a soul. Bianca. I can see Bianca. Mamma can talk to Bianca._

 

He didn’t have to think of his answer for more then a second. “Deal.”

 

Hades smiled at him, not a pleasant smile but not sinister either, and left with Persephone.

 

Nico took the steps down to where Mamma was two at a time.

 

 

* * *

 

Part of him wondered whether Patroclus was the only _human_ Greek hero in the entirety of the repertoire of Greek mythology, especially when he summons Theseus for advice to get through the Labyrinth. There was nothing outwardly wrong with Theseus, although Nico knew his mythology behind the man, but there was something fundamentally wrong with him in the same way Nico could feel when he was with Minos.

 

Nico just wished it didn’t have to be Theseus. Who doesn’t love the bastard son (although weren’t they all, Nico found the humor of his own joke) of Poseidon, who had a preference for tyranny, thirteen year old girls, and killing his own son? Nico wasn’t too inclined to follow his advice.

 

“The Labyrinth is treacherous.” Theseus intoned, his appearance as a fourteen year old boy making Nico stare at him more in disbelief. “There is only one thing that saw me through: the love of a mortal girl. The string was only part of the answer. It was the princess who guided me.”

 

_Okay… that sounds fake, but okay…_

 

Nico eyed him. “I’ll consider your advice.” He stated diplomatically, and sent Theseus back to the Underworld with a wave of his hand. It was testament to Achilles and Minos’s training that the drain of power it took felt like only a trickle, instead of the massive hurricane it was when he was first required to summon and lower spirits.

 

“Does that mean I have to get a mortal girl to love me?” Nico wondered out loud. He thought about it a few seconds longer, and shuddered. _“Gross.”_

 

* * *

 

No wonder Hades had given up on getting his hands on Daedalus’s soul. The Labyrinth was just how Nico remembered it: dry, empty, deadly, and more importantly, _boring._

 

At least, it had been until he managed to get roped into dealing with Percy again.

 

 _(Was there_ any _God up there looking out for him?)_

 

As Nico stood there in his shackles, ignoring the yelling and fighting of the others, he stopped and considered his fears at that time. There were a lot things that scared Nico, and he hadn’t expected at eleven years old he would be facing half of them. Nico used to consider _danger_ to be persecution, death, corrupt political systems and men in well-fitting suits that cost a hundred dollars. His fears now were childish: monsters, the act of dying, abandonment, being forgotten. He wasn’t sure when he began to think he felt better in fascist Italy then he did twenty-first century America, but with his life stuck between the choice of death and dealing with a thirteen year old boy, he missed the good old days of simpler fears.

 

In front of him, Geryon and Percy were still haggling about how much it would cost to save him. Nico didn’t really think he’d cost that much for Kronos to want him, but he wasn’t going to give his input. Some vindictive part of him wanted to just shadow travel away, back to the Underworld to Maria where Minos had dragged him away without giving him a chance to say goodbye- but the part of him that was overwhelmed with furious anger, instead of tired cowardice, refused to leave without at least attempting to bash Percy’s head in.

 

Nico blew his hair out of his eyes when a gust of wind caught it ( _oh that’s annoying, Nonna will have to- someone will have to cut it)_ and glanced back at the two arguing, hand motions getting wilder until they eventually calmed down. It seemed though that they came to a conclusion. Nico was untied, much to his grudging displeasure. Percy tried to put a hand on his back to lead him back into the Labyrinth, but Nico easily shrugged him off and led the way back towards the entrance.

 

Percy stopped him shortly before they arrived- “Have you managed to contact Bianca yet?”

 

Nico grit his teeth, about the unfairity of it all, how much he hates everything that’s happened, about the fact that _did they really have to do this here,_ and spits out, _“No._ Not yet.”

 

Percy flinches slightly, “You could try again?”

 

“Do you know something I don’t, Jackson?”

 

The three behind him, Grover, Annabeth, and a third boy ( _with one eye?_ A cyclops! _That’s so neat!)_ shuffled around uncomfortably, Nico threw his hands up in the air and gave Percy the evil eye.

 

He shucked off his jacket, and pulled out the emergency food supplies he kept for situations just like this- Grover was giving him a strange look for the twist-off applesauce packets Laura handed him with a pat of his hand, understanding of the nature of summoning- and scuffed up the ground in front of them, chanted the words quietly in Greek, poured the applesauce, and much to his _immense displeasure and surprise,_ the vague form of Bianca began to appear, unsure and fuzzy-eyed.

 

Nico’s packet of applesauce fell on the ground in front of him, and his knees followed too, eyes wide and completely overwhelmed at seeing her after all this time and trying.

 

He wondered if maybe the others couldn’t see the true image of Bianca, because they weren’t retracting of horror at her mangled appearance with one arm barely holding on, and her neck just slightly crooked, but it made no difference to Nico after all he had done for Maria. Nico felt like crying, in those few seconds he took in his sister. She looked young, vulnerable- and it filled him with anger, annoyance, a desire to yell at her _why didn’t you listen to me, why wouldn’t you answer me, why did you leave me Bianca do you remember now, will you come back to see Mamma, Bianca, why did you leave me why-_ and she barely spared him a glance beyond something resembling pity before addressing Percy.

 

All at once, that anger that was boiling felt like it was going to explode. After everything, she would still talk only to Percy? After her death, she was still going to ignore him?

 

“Nico,” She spoke softly, and Nico hated how she made it sound like he was frightened animal, ready to run, because she was correct in too many ways. “You can’t hold grudges. My death isn’t Percy’s fault, it’s mine, and it was my choice to sacrifice myself.”

 

“So you decided sacrificing yourself to strangers is more important then coming back to me.” Nico swallowed, turning over the ring she gave him in his hands. His anger was making him fidget in a way that wasn’t typical of him.

 

“You don’t need me Nico, especially after I knew you would be fine in Camp.”

 

“And yet even after I left Camp, where I was miserable, Bianca, I hated it there- you wouldn’t respond to my summons. You ignored me, you abandoned me. This- _bullshit-_ ” He spit out, the harsh words felt like ash in his mouth, as he got up from his knees until he was standing directly in front of her. “-of me being safe was just you running away Bianca. You haven’t wanted to admit that something was wrong, that Mamma didn’t die in a car crash, which was why you wouldn’t go see her past that one instance before I was even _in_ the Underworld. Bianca I don’t- You wouldn’t answer me why didn’t you-”

 

Percy tried to interject, diffuse the tension, _something_ like that, but Nico rounded on him with a hissing tongue, not listening to his placating words- “ _Be quiet._ I’m sorry, I’m not going to listen to the person who got my sister killed.”  

 

“Holding a grudge is Hades’s children's’ fatal flaw.” Bianca reminded him stonily, “You can’t hold this unwarranted grudge against him-”

 

“It’s not just against him, Bianca.” Nico told her, and grabbed her arm with his nails digging into her cold skin. “This involves you. And _Gesù Cristo_ is it not unwarranted.” Behind him, Grover and the rest let out a gasp at Nico’s physical hold of his sister, Grover hastily whispering the impossibility of Nico’s actions to Percy, but Nico was more focused on the suddenly _scared_ look on Bianca’s face, that Nico could harm her-

 

 _I would never hurt her._ Nico took a step back, anger tempered at the idea of Bianca _afraid of him._ Bianca hunched into herself, farther away then ever, and yet Nico felt like the one who was dead. “Bianca I-”

 

“Kronos can sense you.” She stated plainly, not making eye contact with Nico. “I have to go.”

 

Nico nodded his head in jerky movements, not wanting to let her go but he didn’t want to scare her further _(I’m not supposed to be able to frighten her, she shouldn’t be afraid of me, why is she afraid of me)_ , and released her from the summons. Nico didn’t turn back to look at the four of them behind him _(no doubt afraid like Bianca was, unwilling to deal with him, afraid of him not just as a Son of Hades but as a monster too, why else would someone’s sister be afraid of them)_ and shadow traveled directly into the Labyrinth before the others could speak up.

 

Nico found himself covered with shadows for less then a second, before being carefully pushed out the dark corner in the middle of nowhere. He sunk down to the floor, barely noticing the dust and debris under his feet.

 

He hated Hades. He hated Lethe, and the Greeks, and everything that had happened to his family since that fateful day in May, 1940.

 

It was no wonder that every Greek story was a tragedy.

 

_A soul for a soul._

 

Nico buried his head in his hands, and cried, angry and numb and too, too tired.

 

His tears dried out after a few minutes, but hiccups were still coming out from his chest and his vision remained blurry. Nico stared blankly ahead at the wall in front of him, refusing to think of anything, ignoring the way his hands were shaking, ignoring the way his arms were cold because he had forgotten his jacket _of course,_ ignoring the cold weight of both the sword sitting at his waist and the gun holstered at his side.

 

Nico got up unsteadily to his feet, and ran a hand on the wall to support his weight. He took a deep breath, trembling in his ill-fitted shoes and baggy clothes, and set off down the corridor. He took a turn at every left, a right every third turn, Nico just wanted to be lost, away, _gone._

 

He turned the corner, and came face-first with a thin blade in his face. Nico barely blinked at it, still faintly hiccuping, and peered at his assailant. His heart was beating rapidly but for all that the confrontation happened abruptly, Nico refused to be afraid.

 

The other was a teenager, young, frightened, alone- Nico could relate. There was dried blood underneath his nose, like he had recently got into a fight, and a steel quality in his one eye Nico could almost admire.

 

“Who are you?” The other demanded.

 

Nico shrugged, and hiccuped quietly.

 

The blade came impossibly closer to Nico’s face, almost touching his nose, and Nico had to go cross-eyed to see the tip of it. Nico felt no threat- if the other meant to kill him, he would have aimed for something softer, like the heart. Nico knew better.

 

_(Maybe that’s why she was afraid.)_

 

“I asked you, who are you?”

 

“Are you lost?” Nico asked in return, rubbing his eye, just out of reach from the tip of the sword.

 

The boy straightened. “No.”

 

“Shame. Can I pass?”

 

The boy looked behind him, before grinding his teeth at Nico. “Why don’t you listen to me? Who are you? Who do you work for?”

 

Nico was more inclined to answer that one. “In some people’s opinions, I guess I work for myself. However I’m being forced to complete tasks from my father in order to see my family and go home, so technically him.” The other was silent, watching him. “If that answers your question.” Nico tacked on.

 

“Who is your father?”

 

Nico didn’t answer.

 

The boy took in a short breath and lowered his sword. He jabbed his thumb behind him and said, “Go that way and you’ll find a door to what was previously Detroit, although this Labyrinth is too fucked up you’ll probably end up somewhere in Wyoming.”

 

Nico looked down the dark corridor, and could almost see the door the other was mentioning. “Thank you.”

 

The boy only shoved his way past Nico and turned the corner. Nico almost considered asking him to stay, that he was scared of being alone and everything that could happen, but he continued resolutely onwards until he made it to the doorway.

 

Nico didn’t think twice about the consequences before he opened the door and crawled through.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how exciting!!

The Labyrinth felt like the Underworld; the temperature just under that of comfortable and capable of creating minuscule goosebumps, there was a musty smell in the air like that from a place that had held nothing but decaying things for years on end, and the annoying presence of Minos when Nico least expected it.

 

“You know, my Lord, I had expected better from you. Running off like a child. You haven’t seen your sister in so long, and that’s how you treat her?”

 

Nico startled, and turned on his heel to look at Minos, with his face still red from the emotional distress he had been through and his gun cocked, wobbling at just below Minos’s head. “I w-wouldn’t call that cowardice, Minos.”

 

“But wouldn’t you? And now, you’re running away. If that exit that boy mentioned hadn’t been blocked off from you, you would have escaped right back to the Underworld like you’ve been doing for months.”  


“It’s not _cowardice,_ Minos.” Nico repeated, but his voice cracked.

 

“You’re a pathetic Son of Hades!” Minos spit, transparent hands outstretching towards Nico’s neck as if to strangle him, had Nico not made the prudent decision to step back between him and the irate ghost. “Everything about you is a disappointment! A waste of space! The greatest mistake a God could have ever made!”

  
“So _what_ Minos!” Nico shouted back, wiping his eyes with the back of his hands, gun drooping towards the floor. “Who _cares!_ I never wanted to be the Son of Hades! I never wanted to come to America! I never wanted to live in this century- I never wanted to be born at all! These past months has been _hell_ for me Minos-”

 

“Hello?” A woman’s hesitant voice came from behind him, and before Nico realized, his gun was pointed straight at her forehead this time, the perfect angle that Achilles had been drilling into him for weeks.

 

The woman beside her let out a screech of indignance, and it took him less then a second to realize that they weren’t human, their legs turned into slick tails of those of snakes, but by then the original woman had grabbed his gun and yanked him forward, sending Nico off balance, and the other woman slapped the flat side of her sword on his temple. Through the sides of his vision he could see Minos disappear into the air, presumably back to the Underworld.

 

Nico was unconscious by the time his body hit the floor.

 

* * *

  


When Nico came too, some part of him found the irony of ending up in Daedalus’s workshop completely hilarious, in the very small, very sleep deprived, tired of everything part of his mind. The rest of him wanted to yell in frustration at the unfairity of it, but before Nico was able to further understand his situation better, his arm was gripped harshly and he was pulled to his feet. Nico wobbled on the sleek, warm wooden floors of the workshop, head dizzy from being forcefully knocked unconscious, and stared up dumbly at his captor.

 

It was the same Asian boy he had met before, the one with one eye, but Nico was pleased to note (in the same part of his mind that was very, very tired, and found too many things funny) that he had cleaned off the blood from his face.

 

“I thought I told you where the exit was, kid,” The other boy hissed quietly, as if to not disturb anyone else, but with Nico’s fuzzy vision he could barely make out anything but a few pieces of worn furniture around them.

 

“It was kind of blocked.” Nico stated, blinking rapidly to get rid of the dots in his vision. “Caved in.”

 

The other boy seemed annoyed, “Fucking Labyrinth,” he muttered, and Nico was inclined to agree. “Either way, you’ve got to get out of here, kid. Kronos will be back anytime now, with the rest of his army, and you don’t want to be caught up in all of that.”

 

“Kronos?” Nico could vaguely recall the name. “What about you?”

 

“Stupid, I’m part of his army. I was left here to watch over you and him.” He jabbed his thumb behind him, and then Nico could make out the prone form of a tired old man, sitting and staring blankly at the workshop table in front of him, and Nico felt only pity.

 

“But-”

 

“You should take it, my Lord.” Minos’s voice came from his left, and Nico let out a startled yell and lurched away from him. The other boy was clearly surprised as well, and Daedalus lifted his head to stare at the other soul in the room.

 

“Minos!” Nico spat out, and the other boy took a step back, recognizing the name.

 

Minos smiled, “Well isn’t this exciting, my Lord. Getting knocked out, captured by the enemy, threatening your dead sister, all in the course of one day. You should be proud.”

 

“Get out of here Minos, no one wants you.”

 

“They may not want me but I am far more important then they would ever admit to needing. Hello, Daedalus, so nice to see you. Icarus talks of you almost _constantly._ ”   


Daedalus looked almost physically ill at the name, and Nico felt pity spike in his heart.

 

The other boy, who still clutched his arm, pulled Nico further behind him as Minos became focused on torturing Daedalus. “Get the hell out of here, before Kronos comes back.”  


“I don’t-”

 

“Listen, kid.” Nico stopped fighting and listened. “I don’t want you to die. I don’t want you to be here when Kronos comes back and uses you as nothing more then a puppet, or cannon-fodder. Get the fuck out of here if you want to _live_.” The other boy almost seemed passionate about it, gripping Nico’s bone-thin arm with something akin to panic, and for once Nico could listen.

 

“Okay.” Nico agreed only a hair's-breadth later. “I’ll go.”

 

The boy almost sighed in relief, letting go of his arm. “I’ll provide a distraction from the ghosts, just- just fucking run okay?”

 

Nico nodded his head.

 

Minos at that moment had finished his speech to Daedalus with relish, appearing to have enjoyed tormenting the poor spirit, and made eye contact once more with Nico.

 

“Well, what about it, my Lord? What are you going to do now, boy?”

 

White hot anger surged all of the sudden out of Nico, his previous anger against Minos fueling the fire. “You know, Minos, I don’t think I want to hear any of this from you, right now.”

 

“How are you going to quiet me? Crying? Stabbing me? You can’t harm me, my Lord. I’m more powerful then anything you will ever _be._ ”

 

Nico, in response, took the twisting anger in his stomach and held out his hand towards where Minos was standing, and without another word, opened a steep and rocky fissure in the ground that caused all around him to fall from where they were standing as the ground spread apart in angry, jagged lines, and Minos was sucked into the void that Nico knew automatically led straight to a part of the Underworld Minos would have a hard time escaping.

 

It sent a vindictive jolt of pleasure through Nico, even though the creation of it led to the dissipation of his anger and hs power. Exhaustion settled even further in his veins, but Nico couldn’t find it in himself to feel any guilt. Although Nico was sure he looked crazy for it, he smiled widely at the abnormality in the ground.

 

He looked towards Daedalus, and the other boy, and found the former staring at him in horror and the second in admiration.

 

Nico had never seen anyone look at him with anything other then disgust in _months._

 

Nico stumbled back to his feet (when had he fallen? When the others had?) and made his way towards the other boy and offered his hand to him. “Sorry. Minos tends to get on my nerves.” He stated mildly, a touch embarrassed.

 

“I think you’ve got a pretty good reason to act like that.”

 

Nico hoped the other thought the faint red on his face was from the exertion to send a soul back to hell.

 

Daedalus had let out a little moan of pain at that time, and yet when Nico took a step towards him, the soul scurried farther away from him, eyes wide, and Nico remembered why he had been looking for Daedalus in the first place.

 

Unfortunately, according to the rules of Nico’s life, this meant that another presence was just about due to come into his life, and that meant Percy, Annabeth, and a redhead girl Nico had never seen before in his life came running into the room, panting and yelling. Nico wondered if the Gods watching him just liked overwhelming his life in a cruel and vindictive way.

 

Nico wanted to throw his hands in the air in frustration.

  
The other boy that Nico kind-of-sort-of-not-really-just-in-an-admiration-way-liked-just-because-the-other-had-been-very-helpful-up-until-this-point-and-was-quite-attractive-in-that-not-homosexual-way, and had helped up from the floor, let out a loud sigh and Nico felt like seconding it.

 

“Nico!” Percy shouted.

 

And Nico thought to himself at that moment, staring with age old wisdom at the three people he had wanted to see the least, _I legitimately don’t think this day could get any worse._

 

But the Fates’ had some kind of twisted sense of humor; Percy let out a shout and uncapped his pen (which was a sword? Nico had only seen it in sword form, but that was _so neat_ that it could do that _-_ which was the last thing he should have been thinking of at that moment, Nico hated his attention span), and the redhead they were with mumbled, “Holy fucking shit.”

 

And really, that described Nico’s life better then it should have.

 

A tall blond boy of maybe eighteen years old smiled warmly at Percy and the group from the doorway, his eyes landing only on Nico for perhaps a second before Nico was dismissed.

 

“Well, isn’t this exciting.”

 

Annabeth tightened her grip on her hat, and the small knife she always carried, but Nico could tell if she was attacked she would be helpless by the way her knees trembled underneath her. He didn’t know why she was like that- why her grey eyes were frantic and yet soft as they stared at the boy, but the way Percy stepped in front of her almost automatically was more telling then anything she was projecting.

 

“Lu-Kronos.” Percy’s voice came out steely, for a fourteen year old.

 

Nico thought to himself, _Ah._

 

The Asian boy crossed the room to join Kronos, and Percy glared at the two of them with utter contempt.

 

Kronos’s voice was smooth and commanding, and Nico had a hard time paying attention to what he was saying as soon as Nico caught sight of his eyes. _His eyes are gold._ Nico glanced towards Percy and his group, _just like mine._

 

And then Kronos leveled his sword and threw it straight towards Percy, and Nico raised his hand like he had done only minutes previous and a dark obsidian wall rose between the two sides, from floor to ceiling, four feet thick.

 

Nico’s first thought was, _I can’t believe I can do that._

 

His second was, _how did I just do that._

 

And lastly, his third, before Annabeth grabbed his hand and dragged him towards the wall Daedalus had morphed into an exit (why didn’t Nico ever notice these things happening) was _Gesù Cristo I am so tired._

 

Nico had a hard time following the events that passed in the few hours after that, because somewhere in the mix of his exhaustion and possible concussion, they met Pan.

 

As in goat man God Pan.

 

Which Nico thought quietly, detached from the group, was pretty cool.

 

Pan didn’t talk to him like he did the others, barely leveled a glance at Nico, and it took him an uncomfortably long time before he realized why Pan wouldn’t talk to him.

 

 _The Son of Death receiving a blessing or an audience with the God of Nature himself?_ Nico almost snorted to himself out of bitterness. _Don’t get your hopes up, Nico._

 

Grover, Percy, Annabeth, and the other two unknowns (the redhead seemed pleased, and the cyclops was energetic, and Nico wondered if he should ask how the hell the two came to join Percy’s ragtag team but ultimately decided against it in order to preserve the silence and awe around them) headed back to Camp Halfblood via the Labyrinth, and Nico was left at a crossroad.

 

He could go with them, to a place he hated, with people who distrusted him, to a place where demigods lived and humans were met to be.

 

Or he could return to the Underworld, to deal with Minos, and Achilles, and avoiding his father and Persephone in the palace.

 

As Nico stumbled after the group after a few moments of contemplation, he wondered if he made the right choice.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Nico missed his Mamma.

 

Through the hell that was the Labyrinth, it was the only thing keeping him going, making him wonder if he made the right choice. How long had he been in the Labyrinth? Weeks, at least, and Nico wondered if Maria was even aware of the passing of time. Did she think Nico left her like everyone else?  


“Nico?”

 

“Sì?” Nico responded, taking his eyes off the ground in front of him, and towards Grover, who had hesitated in front of him.

 

“The exit is just through here.”

 

Nico blinked- indeed, the corridor was clear of everyone he had been traveling with. Had he really been that out of it? How long had they been walking? “...Thanks.”

 

Grover nodded shortly, and let Nico climb through the passage before him.

 

As soon as the light and noise hit Nico face first, he wished desperately he had gone after Grover. The idea of turning on his heels and running was so, so strong, and Nico had half the mind to do so, if not for Grover coming behind him and putting a hand on his shoulder.

 

Camp Halfblood was in disarray.

 

Kronos had gotten there before they did. Fire and scorch marks littered the ground, as did corpses of campers and monsters alike. Nico had never seen a body up close before, not one with fresh blood and the slash-marks on their body being _so vivid._ It was different from the injuries of souls, even though Nico could touch them, feel the warm blood oozing, there was a difference between the dead and the dying.

 

Nico felt like throwing up.

 

Unfortunately, a hurling decapitated head of what appeared to be a draconae forced him and Grover to move out of the way of fire.

 

“Nico, come on, grab any injured and help me move them to the Big House.” Grover instructed him. “We’ve got to get them help.”

 

Nico wanted to give Grover a blank look, ask him _are you really asking me that, does it look like I can even hold myself up, why can’t we just run away and survive for once,_ but the small part of him that commanded his actions previously spoke up again and reminded Nico that Nonna force-fed manners to him down his throat, and the rules of hospitality extended to bringing wounded to safety. Nico just wished desperately it didn’t.

 

“I just want to go to bed.” Nico mumbled to himself in Italian. “I want to go home, I want to eat warm food, I want a bath, I want to see Mamma, I want to be anywhere but here right now-”

 

“Nico!” Grover shouted from fifteen feet away.

 

“Coming!” Nico called back with a scowl, and after taking a deep breath (his last one for a while, he was sure) he ducked out from behind the rock he was cowering behind and grabbed the first human he saw, pulling him in his arms before calling the shadows around him, turning them into vapor just quickly enough to avoid the sail of arrows coming towards them in their last seconds.

 

In the few seconds between that, Nico struggled to hold onto the boy, feeling the shadows pulling him every which way, and told them firmly, _“Big House only!”_

 

Nico fell just before the fire he had initially met Hestia at, and much to the terror of the Apollo campers working in there, dumped the injured child and vanished just as quickly back into the fray.

 

Between Nico and Grover (who had a more difficult time getting between the Big House and battlefield then Nico did), they managed to get the majority of still living campers into the white sheets of the medical wing. One of them, to Nico’s regret, was the Son of Nemesis he had met previously- Damar, if Nico could recall correctly through the months separating his memories- with what appeared to be an injected gash across his torso.

 

By his fifth pick-up and drop off, Nico was running on fumes. Maybe one of the Apollo kids noticed, because on his sixth run they left a small glass of nectar on the table next to where he had been dropping off the campers, and Nico downed it in one go before shadow-traveling away. It was only on his sixteenth grab and go that Nico noticed the battle turning in favor of Kronos- draconae heading towards the Cabins with gleeful grins, and with the fake-strength the nectar lent him, he used the same anger he had previously used against Minos to call up half a battalion’s worth of skeleton warriors to hold them off.

 

Nico didn’t know how draining such an act would be- how when each skeleton was beaten back into the ground he could feel their connection to him snap like a tight thread- and Nico chugged another glass of nectar, ignoring the gasps of concern from the Apollo kids (his eyesight had started getting tunneled in, his small cuts from stray weapons healing almost instantly, his fatigue turning into a deadly channel of nonstop fuel), and headed right back out into the field of battle.

 

He didn’t regret it as he took out his sword and held it in a wobbly, amateur hold in his left, and his gun completely straight in his right, when he shot two draconae into submission and beheaded a third when he turned around. He didn’t regret it when the wounds he received from the draconaes’ weapons bled sluggish, and when he managed to save three campers from certain death when they almost stumbled into a trap left near where the battle had begun. He didn’t regret it when he summoned up five more skeletons, the effort almost feeling like it was crushing him, his legs shaky, arms aching, head pounding, and fired two shots almost point blank from behind Kronos, and caught him right below the heart and in the ribs. Kronos let out a loud shout of pain (or maybe irritation, Nico’s exhaustion and battle high left his analytical abilities with much to be desired), and that was all the distraction Percy needed before he gave his final attack-

 

Then Nico passed out, as he was prone to doing, right there in the dirt and blood.

 

When he came too, Nico was barely aware of what was going on- he didn’t even know who he was for a brief moment, a moment that sent panic through his heart (his poor, tired heart), and he thought about Nonno, and Nonna, and Mamma and Bianca- and that was when he knew everything. Percy kneeled down next to him, looking almost as exhausted as Nico felt, and handed him a bottle of nectar quietly. Nico took a small sip, feeling it burn as it slid down his throat, completely aware that he was too close to death on too many fronts, and handed it back with unsteady hands.

 

Daedalus stood a few feet back, and Nico had almost forgotten the existence of the legend. If anything, the man himself seemed more bitter then Nico had expected.

 

“You’ve got me, Son of Hades. Isn’t that what you wanted, a soul for a soul?”

 

Nico stared at him, at the possibilities he had, about everything he had ever wanted, and yet the words that came out of his mouth was: “That’s not up for me to decide. If Bianca wanted to come back, that would be her choice.”

 

Daedalus seemed almost dumbfounded at his answer, and indeed Nico too felt like hitting himself up the head, but the inventor seemed also _pleased,_ and Nico just wanted validation for doing the right thing for once. “I see. Well then, I wish you the best of luck Son of Hades.”

 

It was a blur after that. Nico found himself being led to the infirmary by a surprisingly large army of Apollo nurses (especially considering they had other patients to look after, weren’t they supposed to be focused on that?), and besides the initial hesitance on their behalf, Nico was unceremoniously forced into a bed, hooked up to an IV, and told to sleep.

 

 _I could sleep for a thousand years._ Nico thought to himself, eyes closing too quickly, _I don’t want to wake up._


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sometime during the last time i updated was something like this series's 2/3 year anniversary. im not sure which it is. happy anniversary of this! woo!!! thanks for comments, kudos, and the like!

It was _way_ too bright.

 

Nico was aware that the sun existed. He had seen it maybe, like, a handful of times since being unceremoniously dropped in America. He had just forgotten how annoyingly _bright_ it could be.

 

 _I want to die._ He groaned at himself. _I want to sleep for ninety-eight years and eat nothing but paella and cozze allo zafferano._

 

Unfortunately, that was not to happen. One of the children of Apollo noticed he was awake and started to bombard him with questions, too quick and too loudly for him to even begin to translate them. Nico wondered briefly if he could pretend to have amnesia or something, act like he could no longer speak English. It’d be hysterical. He could picture it in his mind, and it would be glorious.

 

_(“How are you feeling?” The doctor would ask._

 

_Nico would smile widely, “Mi sento una merda.”  Hahaha. I feel like shit._

 

_They would panic. They’d ask him more questions, each one he would answer back in Italian. Maybe they would cry out of concern, or better yet, frustration._

 

 _It’d be_ fantastic,  _but that was probably whatever drugs they had him on talking_ _.)_

 

The child of Apollo noticed he wasn’t listening to them, and called over backup. More doctors huddled around him, each arguing about what to ask him or best thing to do from there onwards, and it was so irritating to deal with when he had woken up only moments previous. One of them wrestled their way to the front, either he was their leader or just really pushy, and Nico thought he looked vaguely familiar, but not enough to actively bother to recognize him.

 

“Di Angelo, how are you feeling?”

 

“Like I went into fight without sleeping or eating for four to five days beforehand.” Nico said blankly, staring at the doctor. “Not that it’s not good to be here, but when can I leave?”

 

“Leave?” The doctor asked incredulously. “Di Angelo, you’re lucky to be alive!”

 

“Aren’t we all though?” Nico asked him, throwing up his hands. “So what’s new? I mean, can I just leave once I know I won’t get dizzy from standing up? I’ll go back to the Underworld, sleep for another three weeks, maybe eat an entire baguette and a block of good cheese, and show up here again if I feel like it.”

 

“That’s- that’s not how it _works.”_  The doctor replied, exasperated, and Nico was pleased to note his face became more and more red and flustered the longer Nico argued with him. “You can’t just-”

 

Nico crossed his arms. “What will stop me?” _I’m not staying any longer then I have to._

 

“You legitimately almost burnt yourself out by overconsuming ambrosia, you used so much of your powers your body started _actually disappearing,_ you’re so underweight it’s a miracle you don’t see every single one of your bones, I just- I can’t- _leaving-_ ” The doctor looked as if he wanted to scream.

 

 _Good,_ Nico thought pettily. _I didn’t understand half those words you just said, but I’m glad to have annoyed you this much._

 

The doctor swore at him, “I swear, to every fucking God up there Di Angelo, if you try to leave-”

 

Nico gave him a bright smile and no response.

 

“Alright, that’s it.” The doctor stood up and pushed the others out of the way in one fluid, sudden movement. “I’m going to fucking sedate this kid, I’m not putting up with this. I haven’t slept in three days and I swear to every God up there-”

 

“Will, you can’t just _do_ that!” One of the doctors tried to reason with him, much to Nico’s amusement, but Will (he had forgotten his name before) was too far gone.

 

 _“Try me, bitch.”_ Will spat back, tossing on some gloves and picking up a syringe. “I’m fifteen and I never took the hippocratic oath, and if this half-dead Son of Hades tries to leave before at minimum a week from now, I’m going to pump him so full of sedatives-”

 

“Will, that’s _illegal!”_

 

“This infirmary is a dictatorship! And I’m the dictator! Is there anyone here who’s _really_ going to try and stop me?”

 

The other doctors were quiet. Despite their protests, it seemed, there really _was_ no one capable of standing up to their lunatic leader.

 

Nico found it far too amusing, maybe as a side effect of the drugs they had him on (or at least he presumed they were drugs, because there were strange needles sticking into his arm that seemed to be carrying liquid, and he was much more calm then he normally would have been stuck in this situation), or possibly because he really was starting to lose his mind. Either way, when Will marched over and jabbed the needle into his arm, he was glad to fall back asleep.

 

* * *

 

 

“Read to me the final part of the _Aeneid,_ Niccolò, and promptly, please. We don’t have all day.”

 

Nico scowled, but held the book in front of him like instructed, and cleared his throat. _“Postquam prima quies epulis, men-mensaeque remotae, crateras magnos statuunt-_ uhm, ah! _Statunnt et vina coronant. Fit strepitus tectis, vocemque per ampla volutant atria-”_

 

Nico tutor nodded his head thoughtfully, listening to Nico’s perfect (and yet very strained) pronunciation of the words, before silencing the boy with a flick of his hand. “Good, good. I don’t suppose you’d like to start on the Iliad then, in Ancient Greek?”

 

“Ancient Greek?” Nico repeated, frowning. “Is that even important anymore?”

 

Nico’s tutor gave him a bland look, and took down the old book copy from one of the high shelves around them in the library. Nico was just glad that Bianca wasn’t there, she was off someone with Mamma and wouldn’t be able to make fun of Nico’s no doubt going to be horrible first attempt at reading Greek. _Greek._ Ancient Greek! It was 1936, who even learned that anymore?

 

He just huffed as the tutor opened it to the first page and Nico peered down with disgust until the words stopped moving around the page (as they were prone to do) and-

 

“It’s Italian!” Nico said in surprise. His tutor leaned forward. “Well, signore,” Nico started, infinitely pleased at the turn of events. “Looks like we can’t learn Greek.”

 

“Niccolò, I don’t-” The tutor grabbed the book from Nico and stared down at the words, before looking back at Nico in both bemusement and suspicion. “It’s in Ancient Greek, young sir.”

 

Nico took another look at it again and shook his head in protest. “No, no it’s not! See- μῆνιν ἄειδε θεὰ Πηληϊάδεω Ἀχιλῆος…” Nico trailed off when his tutor collasped into his chair, wide-eyed and speechless. Nico concerned, blinked down at the text that still appeared to be in Italian to his eyes, and repeated the words slowly to himself (they sounded Italian, especially when he read it to himself: ‘ _Sing, goddess, the anger of Peleus’s son Achilles-’)._ His tutor took out the handkerchief he always kept in his suit pocket, although Nico had never once see him use it, and fanned himself with it.

 

“I don’t think,” His tutor started slowly, his gaze alternating between Nico and the text frantically. “I have ever heard of something like this. I- read on, Niccolò.”

 

Nico did, hestitating at first, before speaking clearly: “Oὐλομένην, ἣ μυρί' Ἀχαιοῖς ἄλγε' ἔθηκε, πολλὰς δ ἰφθίμους ψυχὰς Ἄϊδι προΐαψεν ἡρώων-”

 

_And it’s devastation, which puts pains thousandfold upon the Achaians, hurled in their multitudes to the House of Hades the strong souls of heroes-_

 

 

* * *

 

 

Nico slept for another two days, after which he plotted and perfectly executed his escape from Camp Halfblood- because, quite frankly, _why the fuck would he stay?_

 

(Not like it was necessarily difficult to escape, all things considering, but Nico was hopeful that at least that he turned Will towards heavy drinking.)

 

All it took was for many of the campers to be released, and as it were, the doctors steadily decreased as they finally fell over themselves in exhaustion. Nico carefully slid the needles out of his arm (after learning secondhand that he was connected to an IV, whatever that was). It hurt much more then he had expected, and Nico hastily shoved a tissue over the crease of his arm to apply pressure before he did something ridiculous, like bleed. With the problem solved, and the doctors still absent, he pushed himself to his feet (a feat that took much effort), grabbed his sword and gun which both rested neatly on his side table, and stumbled carefully towards the darkest corner of the room.

 

No one else was in the infirmary except for three other patients, two of them sleeping, and one of them staring at him wide-eyed. Nico shot that girl a smile- _did she just squeak? Do I really look that terrible? I mean, I don’t think I’ve showered in.... has it been three weeks? No wonder I feel so disgusting-_ and grabbed the shadows.

 

They swarmed him, eager and clambering, and it felt like a mistake. His good mood disappeared instantly as he fought the shadows, telling them _UNDERWORLD UNDERWORLD UNDERWORLD,_ but he was too exhausted to do much more then that. The ground slipped from under him, his eyes and ears were filled with darkness and otherworldly screeches.

 

Nico didn’t remember it being this bad since his first time shadow traveling.

 

The shadows pushed and pulled him every which way. He was cold, cold in a way that stuck to him like a frostbitten leech, and as every second passed in the shadows’ hold he felt more and more weary.

 

They let him go, and Nico found himself falling.

 

It wasn’t a far fall, maybe two and a half meters, but it was unexpected Nico fell on the ground with a crash, and he let out a frightening sob when his hand got caught underneath him and bent in an unnatural way, and the sword around his waist slid out of its scabbard and neatly cut a thin but deep line along his stomach.

 

The pain overcame his senses- a mixture of falling, his hand, and the bleeding wound- and he didn’t protest when a familiar face came running over towards him, looks blending into one of intense concern.

 

“Kid, are you okay?” Achilles bent down next to him, and slowly rolled Nico over. Nico sobbed even harder when his hand and the cut were unearthed, the gravelly sand of the Underworld piecing his wound. “Shit- okay, kid, you’ll be okay. I’m here for you.”

 

Achilles gently placed an arm underneath Nico’s shoulders, and forced him to sit up. “You good, buddy?”

 

Nico buried his head into the ghost’s shoulder, and it felt weird and uncomfortably solid and yet he couldn’t find it in him other then to lean in even farther and cry more. _It hurts. It hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts, Mamma, I just want to see Mamma, I haven’t seen her in weeks and I miss her so so so so much and it hurts and I’m cold and I’m so so tired I just want to go home I want home I want home I want home I want home why can’t I go home why can’t I be at home why can’t I see Mamma and Bianca and Nonno and Nonna and Cristiano-_

 

“Nico.” Achilles tried to get his attention, but Nico couldn’t find the energy to outwardly respond to him. “I’m going to lift you up, alright? I’m going to take you to the palace. You live there. There’s someone there who can take care of you, and you’ll be safe, you’ll be fine, Nico, you’ll be better.”

 

_I want to be better. I want to not hurt. I want to see Mamma. I want to be warm. I want to eat._

 

Nico grabbed Achilles’s tunic with his uninjured hand (and to his touch it felt cold and ragged) and hid his face against his chest. He felt like a child. He was a child. Why did he always forget he was a child? Why did people make him forget he was a child?

 

They made good time, or perhaps Nico was too far in his own head, because he was being laid down on a bed (cold, cold, cold, cold, always cold) by Achilles, and Laura hovered over him in obvious concern, but she ran her hand through his hair (though he knew it must had been so grimy, it had been so long since he had been clean, fed, comfortable, happy) and told him everything was going to be alright, sweetheart, could you open your mouth for me? She poured a sweet drink down his mouth that tasted like lemonade, and with one quick motion snapped his wrist back into place.

 

He screamed.

 

Laura and Achilles shushed him, Laura once more playing with his hair and whispering apologies, and Achilles stressfully rubbing unconnected circles into his opposite hand.

 

Nico fell asleep to that, from the pain and the shock. Laura covered him with a blanket, just to be safe.

 

Nico came and went for a few days, dull throbbing pain bringing him back to reality, and denial of the fact making him fall back asleep. Every once in a while someone would pour more of that lemonade-tasting concoction into his mouth, and it became easier and easier to breathe, but he wasn’t able to force himself to wake up, because waking up always meant problems, and it was easier to just sleep.

 

* * *

 

 

When he was finally forced awake, feeling more lethargic then anything, it was neither Achilles nor Laura waiting at his bedside.

 

It was Persephone.

 

 _How did she- why?_ Nico wanted to ask her, but he was too tired to speak. The Goddess was as beautiful as before, dark skin seemingly glowing and flowers pinned to every lapel on her dress. Her unimpressed disposition did not match her outward appearance.

 

“If you’re wondering, you’ve been out for around 5 days.” She told him indifferently. “I believe up on the surface it is now March 14th.”

The date did not match what Nico had thought it had been. His brain couldn’t make the connection between the time in the Labyrinth and the real passage of time; time in the real world seemed to pass more quickly. Everything felt unnatural.

 

“And according to our dearest chef, you should be feeling better in four days time.” Persephone also informed him.

 

 _But why are you here?_ He wanted to ask, but it was taking an enormous effort to simply keep his eyes open, so Nico gave up and closed them.

 

Persephone didn’t seem to notice, although now that Nico could no longer see her, her voice appeared to become more affectionate. “Those guard dogs of yours- Achilles and Patroclus- have taken turns visiting. It’s rather amusing to see, since they have to remain at that set distance from each other. Otherwise, I believe there is nothing interesting to report. Unless, that is, you’d like to hear about your mother?”

 

Nico’s hand twitched, and it gave it all away. He could hear the smile in her voice, and he was too afraid then to open his eyes.

 

Persephone spoke softly; “She talks often of you, and asks where you went. It’s awfully kind of you to visit her, day in and day out. Did you miss her while you were off doing Minos’s biding? She missed you more then anything, would cry out for you. The last time I went to visit, she looked almost human... _put together,_  is what I mean. You wouldn’t have anything to do with that, would you?”

 

It felt like some kind of horrible dream. Was there anytime people wouldn’t be _dramatic_? What happened to normality? Morals? Avoiding the problem and never speaking about it? Couldn’t people just leave him and his life alone?

 

 _Can’t I just die already? My head is killing me._ Nico wondered, and then a few seconds later, more spitefully, _I’ve heard threats and intimidation done better by six year olds._

 

Persephone seemed to be waiting for a response, and huffed when she didn’t receive one. “Childish of you to be like that, you bastard son of my husband, but what can you do?”

 

She got up and walked out of the room. Nico didn’t move until he heard the door slam shut behind her.

 

He sighed and relaxed against the pillow. _Why did she bother coming?_

 

Nico was too tired, and slept more.

 

* * *

 

Persephone’s word was true, as when Laura came bustling in next with an armful of healthy, nutritious food (with unfortunate items such as beets and brussel sprouts, _ew)_ she repeated the information.

 

“You had us all so worried, my Lord.” She fussed over him, helping him sit up in his bed and handing him a spoon. “I don’t think Achilles has slept at all!”

“You can’t sleep. None of you can.” Nico pointed out dryly to her. She huffed at him and swatted him gently on his knee.

 

“It’s an _expression.”_ Laura stressed. “Anyways, you insolent child-”

 

There was a knock on the door, and Patroclus popped his head in. “Is- Nico! You’re awake!”

Nico smiled faintly at the ghost. “It appears that I am.”

 

“You know, you really ought to treat yourself better, Nico, you looked more like a ghost then any of us did-” Patroclus chided as he glided into the room. “And I do hope you feel sorry for scaring us like that, because I swore roughly two hundred years ago at Hades ‘I’ll never step foot in your ridiculously opulent palace ever again, you thrice damned son of a cannibal’, and now I’ve had to break that promise! The only thing I’m hoping for is that Hades is as oblivious to his own house as he is in matters outside the Underworld.”  

 

“For your sake then I hope the same.” Laura chimed in. “Now, Patroclus, watch Nico for a second will you? I feel as if I’ve left something on the stove- oh! Damn it, I did, it’s the ziti!” She rushed out of the room.

 

The two watched her go, before Patroclus rounded on Nico. “So what exactly caused you to end up nearly dead?”

 

Nico pulled his blanket up higher around him. “It’s not- it’s not that interesting of a story.”

 

“I’m not expecting an _Odyssey_. You’ve got some explaining to do, Nico, you scared out whatever remnants of life we had in us.” Patroclus crossed his arms.

 

Nico couldn’t really fight with that, and pulled the blanket higher around himself.

 

* * *

 

“Alright, listen, I have a few questions.” Nico told Achilles. “I know that I’m like, a disappointment to every Greek out there and I’m also slightly feeble, but- this is question number one- why are all the other demigods ridiculously overpowered when they seemed to have only trained for like, two weeks; two- why is it that _I_ am surprisingly and ridiculously overpowered, because I summoned, like, a wall made out of rocks out of nowhere maybe twice, and I didn’t even know I could _do_ that; question three- what’s the point of sword training, if I have like, strangely magical-like powers? But mostly, how do I get on that strange two-week training program for overachieving children of Gods; and finally four-” Nico paused at four. “I know I had another question. But I think you get the gist of it.”

 

After two weeks of half-hearted physical therapy (and slight mental therapy, but Nico did quite want to get into that), Achilles had finally managed to drag Nico down to their typical training spot. Nico wasn’t really sure what to expect after that whole ‘Battle of the Labyrinth’ thing he had overheard the Apollo children call the fight before he had made his escape out of the infirmary, but returning to the Underworld to train (and hide) seemed like the best bet if he was continuously going to have to clean up others’ messes.

 

Achilles- who had stolen his sword from the start and was reverently cleaning it, since Nico didn’t treat it as well as he should, _apparently-_ hummed under his breath. “Generally, all children of Big Three have some kind of elemental powers. Children of Zeus can fly, control lightning. Poseidon’s kids can control water and all that.”

 

“But I thought my powers only extended to death, skeletons, ghosts, the like.” Nico interrupted.

 

“Well, it makes sense for you to have the last of the powers, doesn’t it? Zeus has the air, Poseidon has the sea, that leaves Hades with land. It’s not a stretch to assume that you can move around rocks.”

 

It did make sense. But- “How do I even control them? Minos made me learn how to shadow travel, call ghosts, raise skeletons- but I made those walls without thinking.”

 

Achilles set down the sword, and motioned for Nico to hand him his gun. Nico didn’t see the point of cleaning it, since it could never get jammed or dirty, but handed it over anyways. “Instincts are great, kid. They save your life.”

 

“Is there anyway to test what I can do? And can’t?” Nico wondered.

 

“Sure.” Achilles said. “Go make a wall.”

 

“What?”

 

“I said make a wall. I want it eight feet tall and five feet wide.” Achilles looked up at Nico, and pointed over a stone’s throw away from the tree.

 

_How the hell am I supposed to do that if I don’t know how I did it in the first place?_

 

Nico walked over to where Achilles indicated, with no idea on how to make the wall (and if he did, how big exactly eight feet and five feet were), and stared at the dead soil underneath his feet. It barely felt solid, how would he make it into a wall? A solid, god-given wall?

 

_Maybe if I just think about it, it will happen._

 

That turned out to be both stupid and stupidly optimistic. Staring at the ground, thinking with increasing anger, _wall, wall, Wall, WALL,_ didn’t even make a pebble stir. Frustrated, he turned to Achilles and yelled, “Do you have any tricks or recommendations, or anything at all?”

 

“Just do whatever made the wall in the first place. Gods, how am I supposed to know? Do I look like Hades spawn to you?” Achilles snorted.

 

 _You are the worst teacher in the history of teachers._ Nico thought, with a large amount of spite, and replied loudly, “Last time I had someone coming to kill me, you know." 

 

“Do you want that _arranged,_ kid?”

 

If Achilles came after him again- Nico hastily replied, still with an enormous quantity of bitterness, “No, thank you.”

 

Achilles seemed pleased with that answer, and left Nico to stare at the ground once more.

 

Nico repeated his earlier actions, still with no success, and yelled at the rocks just incase verbal swears would convince it to move. It wasn’t until he was staring at it with tunnel vision, raising his arms slowly (in a very, very, very desperate attempt to see some form of result) that he felt a stirring in his gut not unlike that of dragging skeletons from the ground, and a small wall rose from the dirt. It reached something ridiculous, probably eight meters across and yet only 2 meters high, before Nico had to release it when perspiration formed on his forehead and his still-tired body had exhaustion hit it full force.

 

Nico’s legs collapsed under him, but he was still able to prop himself up on his elbows and stare at his wall. After probably thirty or forty minutes of frustration, he _did it._ Nico had a laugh rip itself out of him, and it caught him by surprise, but it was a nice feeling.

 

Achilles stared at the wall with an intelligible look on his face, before nodding slightly at it. Nico felt more pride grow in his chest, at least before Achilles said, “Good job. Now put it back.”

 

Nico’s mouth fell open. “I- I don’t even know if I can do that!” He protested. “I can’t even feel my feet!”

 

Achilles shrugged. “That really sounds like a _you_ problem.” He put down Nico’s gun. “Now come on, as Laura says, _chop chop.”_

 

“You’re a sadistic, mean, and terrible ghost.” Nico told him.

 

“We don’t have all day, get back on your feet or I’ll come over there and help you.” He threatened.

 

Achilles _was_ the worst. Nico wobbled to his feet- one of them had pins and needles in them and it hurt- and stared once more at the wall.

  
He wouldn’t be out of there for hours, Nico mourned. _Achilles will have to carry me out of here again._


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what. a year. so far. i hope everyone is safe and sound.  
> thanks for support, as always.

“So, I never found out. What happened to Minos?” Nico broached the topic casually one day, during one of the rare (and oddly considerate) breaks Achilles had taken to giving him recently.

 

Achilles snorted, “Oh, him? He’s still around. He’s chained to a wall or something in the Fields of Punishment.”

 

“I’m assuming you took the opportunity to visit.”

 

“I may have spit at him,” Achilles admitted. “But it was all in _good fun_ , you know.”

 

“Right, of course.” Nico looked towards the hill where the majority of punishments were carried out, and nodded to himself. “I think I’m going to visit. I’ll yell at him a little bit, and when I feel better, I’ll laugh at him.”

 

“Sounds like something I would do.”

 

Nico scrunched up his nose. “I hope not. You are a terrible influence.”

 

“You’re so lucky I can’t kill you, or I would.” Achilles threatened.

 

 _I doubt it,_ Nico thought to himself, and it surprised him how fondly he thought of that death threat. “I’ll see you in a little bit.”

 

Nico wandered his way over to the Fields of Punishment, spirits gliding around him less and less frequently as the screams and groans of the punished came closer and closer. It was would have been music to his ears, if Nico was some kind of psychotic freak who took joy in the pains of others (which he was most definitely not, because he had morals, he was a good Catholic, and he was eleven and knew better, _thank you very much)._

 

It didn’t take long to find Minos, because he was the only one still swearing like a sailor at everything that moved, and when he caught sight of Nico he went ballistic.

 

_“You fucking piece of shit! You insolent, retarded son of a whore and cock-sucker!”_

 

“I thought I’d get a warmer welcome.” Nico said cooly after a few seconds, even though the words hurt him more then he would admit. _Nothing Minos says is worth anything. He doesn’t matter. You always knew he was using you, don’t take anything he says to heart. You need thicker skin._ “How has Hell been, Minos? Never thought you’d end up here, I bet.”

 

_“If I could get myself out of here I’d wring your fucking neck with your own intestines and shove them so far up your fucking-”_

 

“I asked you a question, Minos.” Nico shifted back from his heels to the balls of his feet. Minos always had set him on edge, and now even with him chained in place, Nico felt his flight or fight instinct reacting fullforce.

 

The ghost took a deep breath (although whether that was soothing to him was up in the air), and hissed, “What do you want?”

 

“A haircut. More toothpaste. My life back.” Nico stared at Minos. “Mostly an apology.” _I will destroy you, Minos, for everything you’ve done._

 

“An _apology!”_ Minos screeched, fighting with more vigor against his bindings. “If you expect an apology you’re even more of an idiot then I had ever thought, you dick-sucking maggot-eating son of a whore-”

 

 _If you don’t shut up I will cut out your vocal cords, Minos, and I doubt God would even mind._ “I thought you had manners, Minos. I recommend you use them before I send you even _lower.”_ Nico threatened.

 

“As if you even fucking know how to do that; if you don’t remember, I taught you everything you fucking know. You’re an idiot, a failure, a fucking _disappointment,_ a gullible waste of space and the most worthless human on the planet!”

 

The longer the tirade of insults assaulted him, the lower Nico’s fuse got. “You owe me an apology, Minos, for using me, abandoning me, treating me like dirt, insulting me, hurting me-”

 

“Boo-fucking-hoo!” Minos spat at him. “You naïve child. An apology? I would rather eat _shit_ then apologize-”

 

Something in Nico flipped, and he hadn’t even recognized he was calling on his powers before he saw Minos scream in renewed pain as the earth around him pulled him like quicksand further and further beneath the surface. Minos’s face showed fear, Nico wasn’t used to seeing an emotion like that from Minos- the cold feeling in his stomach grew, but he could barely hear Minos pleading _(pleading)_ as more and more power was seemingly sucked out of Nico, and Minos sunk deeper and deeper. It wasn’t until Minos’s head was beneath into the dirt, when Nico could instantly feel the fact that _Minos had gone to Tartarus,_ that the drain stopped.

 

It didn’t feel him lightheaded. He didn’t feel tired, or fidgety. He felt old, and used, and angry at both Minos and himself.  _He’s gone._ Nico thought, and he felt warm. _You sunk to his level._ Goosebumps rose. Nonna wouldn’t be proud.

 

Nico quietly left the Fields of Punishment, and headed to the Palace.

 

* * *

 

 

In the middle of their conversation, Patroclus suddenly stopped talking. Nico looked up from the ground from where he was watching his feet drag as the two of them made their way back to the Palace, and looked at Patroclus.

 

“Are you…” Nico asked, concerned. “...doing alright, Patroclus?”

 

Patroclus stared at him intensely, but didn’t answer the question. Instead he blurted out, “How old are you again?”

 

Although not the weirdest question Nico had ever received by a longshot, the situation was unusual for Patroclus. Not Achilles. Just Patroclus. “Uhm, eleven. I think.”

 

“Eleven!” Patroclus looked even more stunned, before he grabbed Nico’s shoulders and shook him. “Eleven! Nico, by the Gods!”

 

Nico was even more frightened (and weirded out).

 

“Why aren’t you in school! People your age go to school!” Patroclus cried at him, shaking him back and forth. “You’re just fighting! You sleep! Sometimes you bathe! Do you- oh my Lord Zeus, do you even know how to read? Write? Understand basic arithmetic? I’m a failure! A terrible mentor! How could I be so narrow sighted to forget the most important _things_ like _education-“_

 

“Patroclus!” Nico shook his head, wiggling his way free of Patroclus’s rapidly-death-inducing hold. “I’ve gone to school before! I know how to do all of that!”

 

The Greek looked soothed at this thought, but only for a moment, as he was then set into a tizzy by his thoughts and proclaimed loudly, “You still need to attend school! We’ve been sorely lacking on continuing your basic education!”

 

Personally, Nico didn’t find it too terrible to not have to sit in front of some greasy old man and recite the rules of physics. But Patroclus had this look on his face that seemed a mixture of ‘I am a terrible father’ (of which Nico had seen on very few faces, and thus had some difficulty deducing- and why Patroclus looked like some kind of parent, well, Nico didn’t really want to explore that thought process, because it made absolutely no sense) and ‘we have to start teaching this kid starting yesterday’.

 

So Nico resigned himself for lessons. It had been nice while it lasted.

 

It turned out, that through the hastily written letter Patroclus had shoved into Nico’s hand to give to Achilles, and the amount of bribes Patroclus had called in after a millennia or three in Hades, that the Greek hero had secured Nico some of the most famous minds in history to teach him.

 

Nico thought this was a little bit overkill.

 

Patroclus ushered him into Elysium (of which he had done reluctantly, having never really gone into it before because of the odd feeling it gave off) where he was first assaulted with the sight of full frontal nudity.

 

“Holy Hera and everyone of her attendants-” Patroclus swore, and hastily covered Nico’s eyes before the sight of male genitalia was ruined for him forever. “Philodemus, put on some _clothes! This is a public space!”_

 

“I understand what you are trying to convey, you loyal lover of a hunk.” Philodemus said demurely. Nico didn’t understand what the last part of the sentence meant, and did _not_ want to know. The ghost continued, “But I find this so freeing. You really ought to try it yourself.”

 

“I will not, just- do it in your house!” Patroclus protested.

 

Philodemus promptly replied, “You should try living free in your own house!”, to which Nico snarkily asked Patroclus on the side, “You have a house? You actually _live_ somewhere?”

 

Patroclus flicked his fingers against Nico’s forehead, from where they were still covering Nico’s still-remaining modesty. Nico flinched at the feeling, and swatted at the Greek. “It’s an honest question. Next you’re going to tell me Achilles doesn’t actually live and sleep on the ground.”

  
“Well-”

 

Philodemus hummed. “If that is all you have to say, I will take my leave. Goodbye Patroclus, and whichever Son of Hades you are.”

 

Patroclus waited a few moments as the ghost drifted past, before releasing Nico’s head. “God, he’s so frustrating. You’d think, after a millenia or two, he’d realize that _no one wants to see that._ But anyways, Nico, we must continue on. Your teachers are waiting at my house, and I’m afraid they’ve probably finished all of my ambrosia.”

 

That presented a question that Nico had never thought of before. “Can spirits drink and eat the food of the Gods?”

 

Patroclus nodded as he guided Nico by a hand on his shoulder through the narrow, but bright streets of Elysium. The beauty of the place was evident, but Nico didn’t really like it. It felt too manufactured, even with the authentic stones and grecian marble, to make him feel at home. Nico almost missed Patroclus’s answer in his respite about the houses- “Well, we are all already dead, aren’t we? What’s the harm in having ambrosia?”

 

Nico could see the logic behind it and acquiesced.

 

Patroclus’s house was in the back of Elysium, where the houses looked more ancient and time-worn. Nico figured this was from when the Underworld was still young (if that's even possible) and the possibility of Elysium was more distant then it was now. Patroclus pulled Nico up to the front of the house, where the step stooped low and the door was at a height that fit no modern man but a child such as Nico, and they entered.

 

It was warm and minimalistically decorated, which fitted Patroclus well. Inside of the parlor Nico could see three old men getting drunk as the Greek had predicted, and Patroclus let out a loud sigh as he joined the others. “I left you for maybe a half hour,” He told them indignantly, but the three only let out an uproarious laughter.

 

“You should know better!” One of them snorted, holding up a bottle of ambrosia. “The party never ends with me!”

 

“Well, I agree with that.” Another responded, almost disapprovingly, but held out his cup for refilling anyways.

 

Patroclus asked, “Nothing else is gone, I hope?”

 

“Nothing but my virtues.” The last one replied, and let out a room-shaking boom of a laugh.

 

“Socrates, that joke got old _years ago.”_ The disapproving one groaned. “I legitimately think if you use that as your punchline one more time-”

 

“Grow up, Aristotle, let him live.” The first one said, waving his hand.

 

Aristotle turned hotly, “First of all, we’re _dead,_ Homer-”

 

 _“Anyways,”_ Patroclus interjected. “I would like you to meet- oh, dear Lord, where is Archimedes?”

 

“You invited _Archimedes?”_ Aristotle sputtered. “But you have _me!”_

 

Socrates muttered, “Aristotle, what have we said about ego?”

 

“Oh come off it you old geezer, I’m the one who _created_ ego so you can’t talk, Mister my-countrymen-put-me-to-death-because-I-was-so-fucking-annoying-”

 

Homer looked overjoyed at the catfight happening in front of him. Patroclus looked as if he had made a terrible mistake. Nico was just bemused.

 

Patroclus grabbed Nico by his arm and dragged him in front of him, almost in vain to get the three famous figures to focus back on what they had initially come for. _“Here’s_ the kid you’re going to be teaching!” 

 

“He looks kind of like a chicken.” Homer stated bluntly. "It's the hair and the dead look in his eyes."

 

“I completely disagree.” Aristotle leaned forward. “He's a goat.”

 

“Shove it, you two, he’s obviously a-” Socrates downed his entire glass of ambrosia. “-frog of some kind.”

 

“A frog? What are you on?” Aristotle loudly said.

 

Patroclus sighed loudly from behind Nico. “Note to self: don’t have lessons with them within the same vicinity.”

 

Nico agreed.

 

* * *

 

 

“Not to sound like an uncaring son of a bitch or anything,” Achilles started, quite lamely, on one of their first days back at training. “But have you given up on your sister?”

 

Nico clutched the sword closer to his chest, and pursed his lips. “I haven’t given up-” he stated, but slowly came to the realization that that wasn’t exactly true. “She gave up on me. I think I’m just giving her the same courtesy. I just need some time to think. I need space.”

 

Achilles nodded, and immediately went back to reminding Nico of the basics of sword fighting since he had ‘obviously forgotten and desperately needed it, kid, you’re pretty bad’.

 

It took another half and hour before Nico fell back into the relaxed state he was in before Achilles asked him, but Nico moved lighter and stronger on his feet then he had before.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Nico was woken up by Persephone on a dim morning (or night, honestly, it didn’t matter). Neither of them was very happy with the situation, for different reasons, and Nico wondered when his life had gotten to be so strange that he wasn’t even phased being woken up by the Queen of the Underworld or viewed her as an active threat to his life anymore.

 

“My husband wishes to see you.”

 

Nico rubbed his eyes, and mumbled without thinking, “He couldn’t have waited until I was awake?”

 

“Don’t you think that’s what I want to know? Do I _look_ like a messenger?” She hissed.

 

Nico hastily shook his head, and threw his legs over the edge of the bed. “Sorry, sorry. Why does he want to see me?”

 

“Am I his keeper now as well as his messenger?”

 

This was going south very quickly, and Nico hadn’t even gotten fully out of bed yet. “I’m sorry, my Lady. I didn’t mean to imply anything.”

 

Persephone was somewhat appeased. Nico didn’t really blame her for her actions, but considering how terribly he wobbled to just get to the doorway due to fatigue, he thought she could cut him a little slack.

 

She left after him in a huff, and went the opposite way from him. Nico hoped she didn’t do anything that might affect him, but ultimately knew it was out of his grasp if she did. As he wandered closer and closer to the throne room, where his gut instinctively told him his father was, Nico woke up more and more. The anxiety overwhelmed him.

 

 _What does he want from me? Does he know that I’m visiting Mamma? What if he’s going to kill me? He wouldn’t kill me, right?_ Nico paused, and rephrased his thoughts. _He would kill me, but would regret it because I’m his only kid. So he's not going to kill me, but what does he want then?_ Well, at least Nico knew his own self-worth in his father’s eyes. And for some reason, that comforted him. Nico didn’t _want_ to know exactly how skewed his mental state had become in only a few months, but now he knew it to be pretty terrible.

 

It ended up, when he had entered the room to be greeted with an oversized God of Death, that the man seemed only determined for payback.

 

Nico didn’t really think it was that good of a plan. “So let me get this straight-” Nico began, holding up his hands to stop his father from talking. “You want me, on your behalf, to track down Percy Jackson, shove him into some river here in the Underworld-”

 

“Doesn’t even matter which one at this point.” Hades nodded.

 

“-and bring him back up to surface to do- what?”

 

“He can’t be the child of the prophecy. _You_ are the child of the prophecy. You bathe him in one of the rivers, he can’t be the person in the prophecy, you stop the Titans from taking over the world, done.”

 

Hades must be extremely stupid. Nico hadn’t even _heard_ of this prophecy in the first place, and immediately could tell _oh hell no that is most not definitely me, this is probably Percy, he always gets himself in strange situations and if anyone has to save the world it will be him, 100%._

 

“...Right.” Nico said. “But, uhm, why me, why him, why dunk him in a river, why not just, I don’t know, kill him? I don’t think you’re going right way for this.”

 

“Are you questioning me?” Hades raised his brows. “I could smite you.”

 

“You woke me up for some half-baked scheme, I’m not exactly all for this.”

 

Hades seemed displeased. “I remember you being distinctly more frightened of me last time we spoke.”

 

“I wasn’t as tired then.” Nico lied, although he didn’t know the proper answer to give to Hades, he didn't know why he was no longer afraid of him. He was still extremely irritated at his father, and they never finished their last conversation, but with the two main concerns of his having been dealt with he really had no more reason to bug his father. “Listen, I’ll do whatever you want, just actually come up with some plan or something.”

 

Hades reluctantly agreed.

 

Nico went back to bed, came back to talk to his father, only to learned that Hades had narrowed down the amount of rivers to “every one but the Styx, oh, I can’t wait to see the look on Poseidon’s face-”.

 

Nico had always known that Mamma was the one of the smartest women he had ever known, he just hadn’t known that she had been all the brains in her and Hades’s relationship. He somewhat hoped, deep down, that maybe Hades was having a bad year and was smarter then this. He distinctly remembered the God being brighter. Maybe it was the weather getting to the God. 

 

So, Nico did what he was told. He kidnapped Percy Jackson (surprisingly easy, considering how spooked the older boy was of him), brought him down to the Underworld, dunked him in the River Styx _just to piss of Hades,_ and sent him back up to the surface with an awkward pat on the back and a thought of _Thank the Lord you’re the one who has to deal with everything_.

 

All in all, it was a good day’s work, and Nico headed back to bed.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Nico’s lessons were, if only one word could be used describe them, lawless.

 

Aristotle taught Nico whatever he felt like that day, whether that meant battle strategies, the coolest parts of philosophy (if there even were any), to the curious types of origami he had learned over the years in Elysium. Homer was mostly quiet, unless it came to playing musical instruments and teaching Nico only the most useless of all the fables. Archimedes eventually appeared one day, sitting quietly at Patroclus’s dinner table, but taught the physics of life with such complicated theorems (some of which Nico had known to be disproved by the 1930s, whether more were proved wrong by the 21st century was up in the air), Nico couldn’t wrap his head around them. Socrates showed up drunk to practically every lesson and just pestered Nico with questions- well, he had, up until he had asked about Nico’s family life- and then moved on talking about his own versions of Jesus’s parables, which Nico flat out told him, were not as good as the Christian versions.

 

That didn’t mean that Nico didn’t like the teachers, per say, but it was difficult to enjoy the lesson when he felt like he wasn’t _doing anything._

 

In fact, it was only when during one of Homer’s lessons when he had taken one of the books Hades had stockpiled in the library in the Palace and began to read it openly, that the teacher stopped his preaching and peered over Nico’s shoulder. “What is this about?”

 

Nico flipped over to the front cover, and read outloud, “‘The Complete Works of Influential Contemporary Literature From 1794-1990’.” It was the first book he had grabbed off the shelf in the hurry he was in to get to the lesson on time, since he knew it would be a pointless class (with his own entertainment necessary), yet he would still be yelled at for being late for. 

 

Homer stroked his beard. “Oh? I haven’t heard anything of the sort in my time during Elysium. Read one, won’t you?”

 

And thus set a principle for the rest of his lessons too. Obviously, at some point in time, the teachers had been discussing their lessons between themselves. Aristotle and Socrates both demanded an entire bookshelf-worth of materials from the library to ‘update themselves’ on the goings of the world, and Archimedes immediately went to the library himself (something totally unprecedented, according to both Patroclus and Achilles) and came back with nine separate books on Calculus alone, raving all the while.

 

It was a surprisingly effective model of learning. Whenever one of them didn’t understand the concept, whether it was Nico or the teacher, they would puzzle it out until the fundamentals of the information were crystal clear. It was more fun then Nico could have ever expected from simply _learning,_ especially when he and Archimedes got to the applying process of trigonometry, of which neither of them could get right on the first few rounds, and they had to take a walk outside and around Elysium in order to calm down.

 

It was the most fun Nico knew he was going to have in a while, as there was something he could tell from Hades’s longer periods of time spent wandering the Underworld, and the increasing snappiness from Persephone that had him changed into a _corn plant_ (just for saying hello!) for two days.

 

Nico tried, and learned, and fought for as long as he knew he could.

 

Something was going to happen, and dear god was he going to avoid it like the plague until he actually had to deal with it.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> extra long chapter for the extra long wait lmao.
> 
> SPOILERS FOR THE MOST RECENT GREEK RR BOOK AS OF JULY 2018  
> i literally do not read any of rr's stuff anymore. i had to force myself to read hoo. not only am i disappointed that rr kept pjo going bc its not even pjo, but then i learn that he kills!!!!!!!! my number one boy!!!!!!!!!!! jason grace!!!!!! is fucking deceased?????????????????? and i dont even know hwy!!!!? bc no one says why so its obviously not a worthy death either and here i am trying to live my own fucking life but then he kills off one of the most #relatable characters ever??????????? fucking disappointed man. idk jason just deserved better nad i was just trying to live my life but then i see all this rip jason shit and i go wtf??? u bring back leo but u kill off jason lmfao bye bitch
> 
> end of rant enjoy

The cello was one of the coolest instruments to be created, _ever,_ and Achilles could go fuck off in Nico’s opinion for trying to say otherwise.

  
“What part of a cello is _pathetic?”_ Nico asked, indignantly.

 

“The whole thing!” Achilles stated. “It’s just a large, glorified violin! It’s not even as portable as a violin either because it’s the size of two small children and doesn’t even _sound_ that good!”   


“It _has to be_ that big or else it doesn’t make the bass sound, the cello is literally what holds every orchestra together and to even insinuate otherwise is offensive to me, the cellist, every classical music lover-”   


“You know, I’d like to say I’m sorry to intrude but I really doubt I’m interrupting anything too important.”  


Nico and Achilles both looked over towards the ghost that had slipped towards them in the fields. Nico didn’t recognize him (but he was wearing a crown on his head? Was he another God or something?) but Achilles evidently did, and merely just frowned at the ghost.

 

“Oh, Rhadamanthus.” He said dryly. “Lovely to see you too.”

 

Rhadamanthus shrugged, “Well, again, you weren’t doing anything important.”

 

“Hmm.”

 

It was quiet for a few moments as Rhadamanthus eyed Nico, before saying, “So, are you the Son of Hades everyone’s been talking about?”

 

“I sure hope not, because if there’s another one of us he better be pulling his weight, I’m tired of doing everything down here.” Nico wondered whether his blasé attitude could be seen as a bit callous, but it had been a _long_ year in the Underworld.

 

Rhadamanthus smiled. He seemed like one of the more milder ghosts that Nico had met, and Achilles hadn’t discreetly elbowed him to grab his sword like the last three they had encountered, so Nico tried not to be too anxious. “Cheeky. Unfortunately, then, if you are already complaining about your workload.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“You are Nico Di Angelo, who sent King Minos to Tartarus?”

 

 _The Underworld must have a fantastic rumor mill,_ Nico thought. And then, he also thought, _if that’s how he’s starting out our conversation then, I’m fucked._

 

“Uhm.” Nico wasn’t sure he really wanted to answer. “Yes?”

 

Rhadamanthus took off the crown on his head and tossed it to Nico, who caught it with both hands. “Congratulations. You’re a new Judge of the Underworld.”  


Achilles snorted.

 

Nico held the crown and turned it over in his hand, and it was pretty, sharp lines and dark obsidian mixed with steel, but Nico looked up at Rhadamanthus and asked blandly, “Do I… do I really have to?”

 

Rhadamanthus nodded.

 

Nico looked back down at the crown and then back at the spirit. “But do I- really? Like, really? _Really_.”

 

“You got rid of our last Judge.” Rhadamanthus shrugged.  “And while he is my brother, there’s little fondness between us now a days so I appreciate you getting rid of him, but regardless of that fact there’s been a backlog of paperwork and we’re simply overrun with the amount of spirits coming in that even the E-Z Line isn’t cutting it. You took him away, helping the problem, you fix the problem.”  


“I completely understand.” Nico stated. “But why can’t you give this to a spirit? Someone already dead? And willing? If you can’t tell, I’m alive, and- and I’m also eleven. I barely trust myself with my sword at this age, why in God’s name would you trust me with deciding whether people go in essentially Heaven or Hell?”

 

“You killed him, you get the job. It’s the old rules, none of that democracy stuff.” Rhadamanthus smiled.

 

Nico looked at Rhadamanthus bewildered. “You’re _Greek!”_

 

Rhadamanthus looked amused.

 

“You _invented_ democracy!”

 

“The Athenians did.” Rhadamanthus waved off. “I’m Cretan, so I’m better.”

 

Achilles interjected, “Yeah, and he was also a king, kid. Don’t even try to play that card.”

 

Nico looked helplessly at Achilles, who merely laughed at him. Rhadamanthus wasn’t budging an inch.

 

 _Why is it always me?_ Nico wondered. _Just a week off. One whole week, God. Please. I’ve earned it._ Nico sighed and slammed the crown on his head, and Rhadamanthus clapped his hands happily. “Wonderful!” The spirit said. “Let’s start immediately then, if that’s alright with you Achilles?”

 

“Go ahead.”

 

Nico wanted a vacation. _Take me back to China, where the only ghost I had bugging me was the regret of my past actions and a confused Confucian scholar._

  


* * *

  
  


“I don’t know what you know of the judicial state of the Underworld, but quite frankly it’s a little bit of a mess right now.” Rhadamanthus (or Rhad as he prefered to be called) stated.

 

The two of them walked away from the Fields for a good few minutes, reaching closer and closer to the entrance to the Underworld where Nico could see, from this side, a smaller but no less majestic castle situated directly in the center of the action. Nico wondered why he had never paid attention to it previously, but honestly, he didn’t really remember anything about entering the Underworld except _got to see Mamma, Bianca, kick Babbo,_ and maybe _Cerberus is a pretty cute puppy,_ so he wasn’t too concerned.

 

“To be completely honest I know nothing, so you can just start fresh.” Nico told him.

 

“Good! That’s good, usually people have bad misconceptions. Basically, what it used to be in the old days was that Aeacus and I would decide the fates of people, Aeacus decided the fate of the westerners, and I did the easterners, with Minos as the casting vote in case we couldn’t decide.”

 

 _Oh,_ Nico thought. _That’s a lot cooler then I expected._

 

“However, that is not only no longer politically correct, but there are something like seven billion people in the world and once you split the death difference, which God takes care of what domain, what group of people and all that, we average out of about 50,000 people per day entering into our Underworld.”

 

Dread sunk into Nico’s stomach immediately. _Dear God what the fuck did I get myself into? I can already tell this is going to kill me. And wait. Wait a second. There are seven billion people in the world?! No way. No fucking way. Jesus Christ that can’t be true. Can humans reproduce that fast? Didn’t something like seven million people die in the Holocaust, wasn’t that what I read? And yet we still bounced back from losing seven million- from 2 billion in my time- to seven billion now? Humans are totally amazing._

 

“So obviously, we can’t split it anymore half and half with Minos deciding about 30 cases a day- well, now you.” Rhad continued, and Nico thought, _oh, no I’m supposed to be listening to him, shoot._ “So recently, about ninety years ago we switched to this new system of automated soul checker, which has worked pretty well so far. Except, of course, populations don’t stop growing, and a lot of people’s souls can’t be measured by something arbitrarily decided by one of Hephaestus’s machines.”

 

“Please tell me you got secretaries then. Someone else who can help cover the distance.” Nico pleaded, desperate.

 

“Nico, if that was the case, I would have found myself a way to quit _years ago_ and retired to the Isle of the Blest, because goddamn do I deserve it at this point. Can I do that? No! Because someone decided the souls of the dead can only be decided in front of a trusted panel, with only three people on the panel at once, and no matter how many times I try to put it on the God’s agenda at the annual meetings in Olympus they just ignore us because they don’t care about the Underworld at all!”

 

Nico hesitantly patted Rhad’s back, and mourned his life.

 

Rhad took a calming breath and ran a hand over his face. “But I’m not. _Bitter,_ or anything.”

 

“It’s okay.” Nico told him. “You deserve to be bitter.”

 

Rhad patted his shoulder, and lead him closer to the door of the castle. “But where was I? Onto other things, other things. Well, since there’s only three of us, we’re splitting the work as well as we can. We switched it up, but usually we try to go in shifts. Take on cases for six hours, switch, all that.”

 

Nico frowned, but before he could speak up, Rhad continued. “And don’t worry, we know you’re alive. You won’t do as much as us, because as you eloquently stated earlier, you still alive and have to sleep and eat and train, and you’re also eleven and this job makes you suicidal even on a good day.”

 

 _“Lovely.”_ Nico laughed breathlessly.

 

“At most, I suspect, you’ll only work about four days a week for a few hours each day. We’ll work it out.”

 

It was better than Nico could have hoped, and he absentmindedly straightened the crown on his head.

 

“Now, I think I better give you off to Aeacus, he’s probably desperate to leave. He’ll cover the next part.”

 

Aeacus turned out to be another more mild ghost, with a bit of a receding hairline and laughter lines, but that wasn’t what caught Nico’s attention.

 

“You look a lot like Achilles!” He blurted out.

 

Aeacus smiled brightly. “Achilles! You’ve met my grandson then?”

 

 _Grandson?_ “Uhm, yes, he’s teaching me right now.”

 

“Good boy.” Aeacus nodded. “I miss him, he never comes to visit anymore, which is probably good because all we’d do is bitch together, but ahh. I miss him.”

 

Nico coughed. _I can’t imagine going out and ‘bitching’ with Nonno._ “I’m sorry, that might be because of me, he’s been really helpful with training me, and all that.”

 

“I’m glad he has something to distract himself from moaning about Patroclus. I miss Patroclus as well, he was my favorite son-in-law.” Aeacus muttered to himself out loud. “Well, enough of that, although if you see either of them give them my love. What has Rhad told you so far?”

 

Nico told him.

 

“Solid work, considering he only left to look for you an hour ago. Hmm, have you ever been to the Isle of Blest, or the entrance of Tartarus?”

 

“No, haven’t really had the desire or chance to.”

 

Aeacus shrugged. “Well, no time like the present. Just be warned, both are kind of far from here.”

 

Achilles must have inherited his grandfather’s talent for understating things, because ‘kind of far’ was like stating ‘Moses only sort of parted a puddle’. It took them _three hours_ to reach the distant corner of the Underworld where the entrance of Tartarus lay, and that was with a fair amount jogging, avoiding dissatisfied spirits, hopping fences, and Aeacus eventually giving up and stealing a bike that was left in one of the distant fields. Nico didn’t even know they had bikes in the Underworld. If they did, then why the hell did he walk everywhere? It practically took twenty minutes to reach his meeting place with Achilles every morning! And he was _in shape!_

 

Either way, it was probably a good idea to visit Tartarus first, because his tired legs and mind (Aeacus gave him the most in depth insight into his new job that he could have possibly gotten without actually judging some souls himself) were already a little bit more mellow then they would have been had they gone from Blest to Tartarus.

 

The entrance to Hell itself was a sudden cliff, jagged rock leading straight down to a large, empty hole. Nico couldn't see the bottom, and never wanted to. Aeacus and Nico stood on a distant hill on one of the other sides of Tartarus, far enough from the pull but close enough to feel the unease and heaviness emitted from it. Tartarus reminded Nico of what old scholars thought the end of the world was like- sharp and sudden. He shivered.

 

Aeacus patted him solemnly on the back, and grabbed the back. “Here, get on son, Blest is only an hour’s walk from here.”

 

It was quiet the first ten minutes, before Nico broke the silence. “I- I sent Minos there?”  


“Yes.”

 

“Has anyone ever come back from Tartarus?”

 

“Kronos.” The spirit said. “Piece by piece.”  


Nico startled, completely having forgotten that the Titan existed. “I thought he had already gotten out?” Nico frowned. “I mean, I’ve heard that the disgruntled Son of Hermes was letting Kronos inhabit his body, but I thought that meant Kronos was some sort of parasite, not that he was coming back in bits and pieces to the mortal world.”

  
“HIs body is physically coming back, but his spirit is residing in Luke Castellan’s body.” Aeacus nodded. “Terribly tragic, indeed. The boy doesn’t know it, but as soon as Kronos comes back, no matter what Kronos’s body and spirit will overwhelm him completely and he’ll die when Kronos leaves his body. And then he’ll get sent to Tartarus for betraying the Gods. He’s doomed.”

 

“But he betrayed the Gods. Why are you sympathetic?” Nico couldn’t help but wonder. It seemed to go against everything he had been taught, in terms of loyalty.

 

“We all doubt the Gods at some point, Nico. Don’t forget that. And if you never regain your faith in them, and you begin to resent them for forgetting about you- and they do, they will always forget- and you let that resentment build, well.” Aeacus shrugged. “He’s just human.”  


Nico looked back towards Tartarus, where everything felt wrong, and wondered now that he had visited it he would ever be willing to send anyone willingly into its depths. When the time came for it, if he had to make the call, could he send a resentful demigod into its depths?

 

_I resent Hades as well, and Persephone is no charmer, and Zeus killed Mamma- I can’t blame him. I can’t. I have to put myself in their shoes._

 

They reached the Isle of Blest in just under an hour, and they abandoned the bike on the side of the river. Nico took a quick glance at the water and was surprised to see it almost totally normal, calm, light waves coming and receding on the shore.

 

“What river is this?”

 

“Lethe.” Aeacus said, and Nico immediately took a wide step back.

 

The words caught in his throat as his eyes darted across the river. “It-it doesn’t look like the Lethe.”

 

“The Isle of the Blest has changed it.” Aeacus conceded. “This part of the river is mixed with water from the mortal world, enough to dull the properties of Lethe into something that takes away only the bad memories, none of the good. Some of the spirits heading for Blest decide to swim across, so that they will spend the rest of eternity happy.”

 

Nico shook his head at the water, scrunching his hands in the hem of his shirt. “That sounds _awful.”_

 

“Yes. It does.”

 

Aeacus set up one of the small sailboats left at the edge of the river, which was bobbing slightly in the water (and himself carefully avoiding touching the cursed water), and gestured for Nico to get in. He did, carefully, and sat himself in the center of the boat to avoiding any chance of the water splashing him.

 

_I still don’t know if the first time was a fluke. I can’t forget._

 

Aeacus pushed the boat from the sand and jumped in as it settled in the water, moving the sail as he went, and Nico was reminded of the fact that the last time he had been on a boat was on a gondola ride with Cristiano and Bianca.

 

Nico kept his eyes fixated on the water.

 

The ride was calm, almost like the river itself had forgotten that normal rivers have currents and rapids, and Nico jumped off and helped Aeacus pull the boat out of the water onto the white sand.

 

The isle was beautiful, like it was supposed to be. In front of Nico was a wide expanse of white sand, and warm brown and white cliffs. Even the sky had turned to blue- Nico couldn’t tell that he was still in the Underworld anymore, with waves crashing on the sand, the sound of birds in the air.

 

Aeacus motioned for him to make his way up the small path on the cliffside, and Nico obliged. It wasn’t a hard walk, soft hills and minimal obstacles, and within minutes Nico saw-

 

“Oh.” The word slipped out without him walking.

 

It looked like Venice.

 

It obviously wasn’t Venice, but there were the canals, bright architecture, Roman walls and Greek pillars, and Nico scrubbed at his face harshly when the homesickness settled in his stomach and just wouldn’t leave. The island was bigger then he thought, too, because there were hundreds of people he could see on the hill overlooking the town, and there were other hills in the far distance with homes surrounding them, large gardens, beautiful statues, and Nico thought it was one of the most peaceful places he had seen in a long time, with no threat of war or succession looming over the isle.

 

That didn’t mean it counteracted the homesickness.

 

Aeacus asked, “Do you want to go into the city?”

 

Nico looked at it, and shook his head, not trusting his throat. Aeacus looked surprised, as if someone had never denied the chance of spending more time on the Isle of the Blest, but he herded Nico back down the mountain and onto the boat.

 

It took another two hours to go back to the Fields, where Nico could see the edge of the palace, and Aeacus merely patted him on the back and said, “Good job today, kid. Come back whenever you’re free tomorrow, and we’ll get you properly started.”

 

Nico thanked him quietly, made his way back to the palace and fell asleep in bed immediately.

 

(He woke up, only in the middle of the night, to the thought, _why the fuck didn’t we just shadow travel to Tartarus and the Isle????????_ And then groaned out loud, “Damn these ghosts and their fucking dramatics!”)

  


* * *

  


Nico trained, and visited the castle, and talked to Patroclus and Achilles, Socrates and Archimedes, and even Persephone, and he knew that something was going to happen soon because it was getting warmer everyday (even in the Underworld) and something _always_ seemed to go wrong in the summer. Well, they left Italy in May, which wasn’t really the summer, but Nico didn’t really know what month it was in the first place anymore, and so he was a bit disgruntled and on edge.

 

It happened when he was in New Mexico.

 

Nico _hated_ New Mexico with every fiery inch of his being, and if there was a hell on Earth, besides Paris, it would be New Mexico, with it’s hot weather, abnormal amount of sand, and lack of human decency. He couldn’t understand why anyone would willingly live there- not like there was anywhere really hospitable in his opinion in New Mexico, but besides that- everything went to shit when he was in New Mexico, which made sense, because New Mexico was a shitty place.

 

It was probably 33 degrees in the early morning, and there was no one on the horizon. Nico had three bottles of water left in his backpack and he had to make them last until he could find Achilles- which was looking substantially less possible the longer he stood out in the desert and the sun began to rise over the sand. Nico wasn’t panicking. Yet.

 

 _Where’s that two week crash course in powers all the other kids are on?_ Nico thought bitterly, and kicked a rock at his feet. _I was at the camp long enough to see they weren’t doing anything I’m not, so what the hell are they on?_   


There was a loud noise behind him, and Nico turned around on a dime. There at the edge of the his vision were three people, all vaguely tannish and looking worse for wear, and Nico wasn’t ashamed to admit to himself that his first thought was _oh God not again._

 

What would Nonna think knowing that he was eleven and swearing like a sailor? Nico thought about it for a few seconds, before deciding that in his situation, knowing Nonna, she’d definitely do it too.

 

They got closer, and couldn’t seem to decide amongst themselves whether he was a shared hallucination or a real person. Nico could understand why they would lean towards the former. It was New Mexico, the middle of the desert, and Nico was dressed in loose jeans (no matter how gross looking), a t-shirt and a jacket, while these people looked more like they were coming out of some Indiana Jones film or something (Laura was very fond of them and showed him her vast collection).

 

_I’m totally going to have to help these guys aren’t I?_

 

Nico let out a loud sigh, before waving his arms at them. “Hey!” _Oh god I’m going to have to speak English aren’t I? When was the last time I did that?_ “Over here!”

 

They seemed equally as panicked as before. Nico didn’t blame them once again.

 

They came closer, and Nico was able to discern their appearances. They were teenagers, older than him, One boy, and two girls. Each carried a sword on their hip or back, but they seemed more… _clean_ then the other demigods Nico had met before. They were more uniformed in their approach to him, one of the girls in front, the other two slightly behind to cover any weak spots. Nico immediately thought _Romans._ It was too smart to be Greek.

 

They were finally close enough to talk without yelling, and they were all staring at Nico like _he_ was the weird one (like, okay, it was weird to see a kid out there in the desert looking totally unprepared for it, but these kids were out here looking like military training gone wrong with swords, so they couldn’t talk), and Nico just shifted his weight forward a bit more on his feet just in case this turned sour and he had to ditch finding Achilles to make a quick escape.

 

No one was talking, just eyeing each other up in the first initial seconds, and just before Nico could open his mouth and make things probably worse (because he knew his diplomacy skills must be shot at this point if the only thing coming out of his mouth this point was witty remarks, thanks Achilles) the main girl asked, “So, uhm, who are you and why the hell are you out here in the desert?”

 

“I’m Nico, and I’m just-” _Waiting for a spirit to give himself away and let me track him down to improve my scouting abilities._ “Hanging out.” He finished lamely.

 

“Hanging out?” The boy parroted. “Here?”

 

Nico looked around at the desert before shrugging. “It wasn’t a very good decision. So, what are your names?”

 

The first girl snorted, before calming down. “I’m Sabrina, she’s Olivia and that’s Julian.”

 

Nico couldn’t help the words slip out, “Very Roman names.”

 

All three of them were immediately on edge, Olivia unsheathed her blade (it was a beautiful gold color, Nico wondered why he had to be stuck with the dark steel) while Sabrina took a step back. “What do you know about the Romans? Are you one of us?”  


Nico hadn’t really mentally prepared himself for any sort of confrontation with Romans. In all honesty, he never thought he’d run across a group of them because generally, from his understanding, they were a lot smarter and more put together than the Greeks and their ragtag team of teenagers, and the Greeks had a lot more pressing issues with the TItans. So he had never come up with any sort of excuse if he ran into a group.

 

“I’m not really one of you.” He conceded. “I’m-” _Niccoló Di Angelo you better get yourself out of this situation because Julian is inching forward thinking I can’t see him and his very pointy knife_ (even Nico knew he wasn’t good enough to take on three demigods at one time and be able to shadow travel away, unless he did it right now, which actually wasn’t a bad idea, but it wasn’t a good one, and oh shit they’re waiting for him to answer). “I’m a Judge of the Dead.”

 

_Please tell me the Romans have those._

 

“Judge of the Dead?” Sabrina asked, “Like in the Underworld. With the dead people.”

 

“Yes.” Nico said.

 

“Uhm. Right.” Olivia didn’t put down her sword, and Sabrina’s eyes flickered over Nico, and he knew he had to prove it somehow.

 

Nico summoned the three teen’s shadows and used it (as dramatically and obviously as he could) to summon his crown from where he had left it in his room before he left. They let out an obvious gasp as he slid it on his head, and they stepped back, just like the Greeks did, before Julian accidentally said aloud, “Holy Jupiter, that’s so awesome!”

 

Nico blinked. Sabrina and Olivia both seemed surprised by the outburst, but they nodded their consent. “Okay, yeah, we believe you.” Sabrina told Nico, and he sighed in relief.

 

“So, who are you then?” Nico asked.

 

“We’re all members of the Fourth Cohort.” Sabrina stated. “I’m the daughter of Mercury.”

 

Olivia interjected, “Legacy of Apollo.”

 

Julian finally said, “Son of Juventas.”

 

 _I literally have no clue who the hell that is, or what the fourth cohort is._ Nico thought to himself, before letting himself sigh a little bit. “So I assume you guys aren’t just hanging out here just for fun?”   


“We’re on our way back to California.”  


Nico may not know his America geography perfectly, but he knew that California and New Mexico weren’t exactly next door, and the group seemed as if they had been attacked a few times already.

 

He was going to regret this. “Would you like me to drop you off?”

 

“What?” Sabrina frowned at him. “How would you even do that?”

 

“I can manipulate the shadows. I can use them to transport myself and other things to wherever I want.”

 

_And I’m well rested enough that I bet that if I bring all three of you guys at once, I can at least drop you off in LA._

 

Sabrina looked at her team members, before turning back to Nico. “Can we discuss it first?”

 

“Of course.”

 

They made a small a huddle a few yards away from Nico and discussed it quietly among themselves for a little bit, giving Nico enough time to scan around them again to see if he could find Achilles. Nothing.

 

“Hey, Nico, if you could take us that would be awesome.” Sabrina broke his thoughts.

 

“Perfect.” Nico nodded at her. He had never done alive people before, much less three others at once, but Nico knew when to trust his gut and his gut told him he’d be fine, at least if he tried for LA, and Nico wasn’t cruel enough to leave these guys out here in actual Hell. “Just grab onto each other, and be as close as you can. There’s not many shadows to work with here.”  


Nico grabbed onto Sabrina’s free hand as Julian and Olivia crowded closer to their leader, and the childish part of Nico was secretly happy that they didn’t flinch even this close to Nico. _Would they be afraid of me if I told them I was a Son of Hades as well?_

 

Nico didn’t want to test it. He took in a deep breath, took every piece of shadow available, and told the shadows, _LA._

 

It was more exhausting then Nico imagined, telling off the shadows from not only himself but three others, but it was only a few seconds in the shadows before they were deposited a few streets over from the LA entrance of the Underworld. Olivia started coughing as soon as they landed, and Nico pitied her, he knew better now to hold his breath when he traveled because the shadows were frightening and unforgiving.

 

But all four of them were there, in one piece, and Nico’s knees felt like jello so he sunk down to the ground.

 

Sabrina looked worriedly at Nico and put a hand on his knee, “Hey, dude, are you alright?”

 

“Just takes a lot out of me.” Nico told her, and she looked even more grateful.

 

“Nico, honestly, thank you so much.” Julian told him. “Is there anything we can do for you?”  


Nico shook his head. “No, no, it’s fine, don’t worry about it. I wouldn’t want you guys to be stuck in that desert any longer.”

 

The three of them looked so gratefully at Nico, he turned his head away from them in slight embarrassment. It really wasn’t anything that big.

 

“Well, if anything ever comes up, or you’re in any trouble and us Romans are there- the Fourth Cohort has your back, okay?” Sabrina told him seriously, before grabbing his arm and pulling him up. “We’ve got you, Nico. Now, I’m not leaving your here in this alleyway. Where do you want to go?”  


“We can take you with us to the Legion.” Olivia piped up, causing Julian to turn his head to look at her. “I mean, just if you’d like. You’re a good kid, and I know we just met but I think you’re a good person, and if you’d like to join the Legion-”

 

This free acceptance- it was incomprehensible to Nico, and his words caught in his throat once more and his eyes became a little wet, and he scratched at them and nearly tripped over his own feet, had Sabrina still not been holding onto him. “I-I’ll keep that in mind.” _I wish I was born Roman._

 

 _But would they still feel this way if they knew my parentage?_   


Sabrina patted him on the back, and echoed Olivia’s sentiments, and Nico eventually managed to get them to drop him off a block away from the radio store entrance.

 

Nico watched them leave, the three of them wishing him a grateful, cheerful goodbye, and Nico desperately wanted to go with them.

 

He went straight into the store and made the long trek down to the Underworld. It was a lot colder down there then it was in the mortal world.


End file.
